I Write Sins, Not Tragedies
by Science-Fantasy93
Summary: Crashing a wedding has never been part of Katie's plans. However, when James shows up with a deal that could make or break their best friends' happiness, she finds herself giving in. As they work to bring their friends back together again, she begins to realize that there may just be more to him than meets the eye and just maybe teaming up with him isn't as tragic as she thought.
1. Prologue

**_Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever, owned Big Time Rush, or Panic! At the Disco, their song "I Write Sins, Not Tragedies", or anything else that is recognizable._**

**_A/N: So, this is becoming a tradition. Right before I finish a story, I go and post a new one before I can actually get the epilogue for the other story up. I was determined not to let that happen this time, but this is a story I've been wanting to get up for awhile, and since I haven't actually updated any of my stories for a couple of weeks, I figured now would be a good time to post this. Plus, I started it back in early March, so...yeah, it's been about six months. So. Here's the thing. This is supposed to be more comedy than drama. I'm not saying I succeeded (though I'm hoping I did), but I'm doing my best with it. This is an idea that's been playing around in my head for the past couple of years, and it was actually inspired by two different songs: Taylor Swift's song "Speak Now" and Panic! At the Disco's song "I Write Sins, Not Tragedies". And yes, the latter is where the name came from. I was listening to the song on the radio and after being lost in my head for a couple of years, this story just forced it's way to the front and hit me from the side, so it seemed appropriate to name it after the song._**

**_This is a lot lighter than my other stuff, so hopefully it works. That being said, this is just the prologue and it does have some drama in it. But it's just setting up the story, so even if it sucks, I hope you'll stick with it because the chapters are a little bit different than the prologue. :) As always, a huge shout out and thank you to Dana2184 for being awesome and reading the first two chapters without the prologue (because I hadn't actually written it yet...) and loving them. The prologue is kind of brief and on the short side, but the actual chapters will be longer :) There's two main pairings in this story: James/Katie and Logan/Camille, with Kendall/Jo and Carlos/Stephanie on the side, and it's a Minnesota AU._**

**_The rating is T for the moment, but I'm not promising anything. I don't trust my characters in this, so it's entirely possible that the rating will go up to M._**

**_Enjoy the prologue :)_**

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**Prologue**

**Katie's POV**

Here's the thing about rehearsal dinners – they're boring.

Like, really, really boring. The entire evening had been boring. The wedding party – every single person in the wedding – had been required to make an appearance so that we could go through the wedding, step by step, and make sure no one tripped or stumbled or dropped the ring or decided not to wait for the whole "speak now or forever hold your peace" speech the pastor was supposed to give during the actual ceremony.

We had only been there for an hour and the ceremony had just barely begun, but my feet were killing me. I was in my own personal hell and most of it was completely my fault. I couldn't remember why exactly I had thought it would be a good idea to wear high heels, but I was going to hazard a guess that comfort hadn't been on my mind at the time.

So now I was reaping the rewards of being three inches taller by feeling as if my feet were about to burst out into blisters. Yeah, I was in a fantastic mood…

And my mood wasn't being helped any by the guy who was supposed to be escorting me down the aisle. Camille had insisted every bridesmaid have an escort, and so…I got stuck with James Diamond. Which, in my opinion, was pretty stupid, since he was easily 6'1 or 6'2, and I barely topped five feet on a good day. Even in my three inch heels he still towered over me, a skyscraper to my single story house. And he made sure to point that out every five seconds.

"So, I think there're surgeries that help to enhance your height," he informed me as we walked slowly down the aisle, a few feet behind Kendall and Jo. Carlos and Stephanie were behind us, and Lucy was at the piano, a bored look on her face as her fingers drifted over the keys to some classical piece Camille and Logan had picked out. "You know, make you grow. In case you're interested."

Logan was standing at the head of the church beside the pastor, while his and Camille's parents sat in the audience. Both of their mothers were sobbing their eyes out. Occasionally, Mrs. Mitchell would let out a trumpet-like sound as she blew her nose, or Mrs. Roberts would wail at the top of her lungs.

I smirked, even as I kept my eyes straight ahead. "And I know there're surgeries to enhance your dick. Doesn't mean you've got to compensate."

"Even in your heels you're a midget."

"This coming from the giant. I'm surprised you could get through the church doorway. Do you have to duck when a plane flies overhead? Or when you have to walk under a bridge?"

"Do you have a cubbyhole you sleep in?"

"Okay, you know what – "

"Hey, look, you guys made it without killing each other!" Kendall cried from where he, Jo, and Logan were already waiting for us at the front of the church. "It's a miracle!"

"Shut up," I snapped at him, before turning back to James. "You're just lucky I haven't gotten you a muzzle yet."

He smirked. "I knew you'd like it kinky."

"And handcuffs. I could handcuff you somewhere and then I'd never have to deal with you again."

"That's not going to work," he informed me.

"Yes, it will."

"No, it won't, because I'm not the handcuffee. I'm the handcuffer."

"Those aren't even real words; do you ever pick up a book? And anyway, there's a first time for everything. A street lamp…"

"What?"

"I'm going to handcuff you to a street lamp."

"I'm not getting up and close and personal with a street lamp."

"Tough."

"You're going to have to overpower me if you want to handcuff me to something. And considering I weigh twice as much as you, that's not going to go well for you."

"I'll figure something out. I'm about to graduate from college – I'm smart."

"Whatever you say, Baby Kat." He patted my head.

I growled and stomped on his foot, digging my stiletto heels in through his sneakers, causing him to yank my hair. I shoved him away from me, but his fingers encircled my wrist, dragging me with him and we toppled over, tumbling to the floor, scrabbling to get away from each other as my legs were trapped between his and his fingers dug into my hip.

The pastor decided that that would be an excellent moment to walk out into the sanctuary.

He blinked at James and me, and I shoved James off of me, managing to get my legs unwound from his. "This isn't what it looks like…whatever it looks like…"

"My dear, it is not my place to judge. Although, if I were you, I would refrain from…ahem…doing anything during the reception…"

I gagged slightly. "James and me? No! We're not – gross – "

"It would never happen," James added. "We don't – I think I'm going to be sick – "

I shuddered. "James and I hate each other. We have since he moved next door to us nine years ago."

James nodded in agreement. "Yeah, so believe me – her and me? Never gonna happen. That's sick."

Pastor Wilbur stared at us for a long moment, before shrugging. "Well, the rehearsal ceremony should probably be continued so that you guys can get back to…disliking each other…"

We both nodded stoically, and he signaled for the piano music, which had paused when James and I had begun our attacks on each other, to continue. Carlos and Stephanie walked down the aisle, and once they reached their designated places, the music changed to the bridal march.

Camille walked gracefully down the aisle, finally reaching Logan. He took her hand, beaming at her, and together they faced Pastor Wilbur. He launched into a long speech about eternal love, before leading the lovebirds through their handwritten vows.

Forty-five feet aching minutes later, we were seated in our designated spots at the table that, at this time tomorrow, would be the wedding party's table. Our moms had made a bunch of different dishes for the rehearsal dinner, so our plates were loaded up with beans, brisket, shepherd's pie, anything really that you could think of. James and I were seated next to each other just as we would be the next day during the reception dinner, but we were ignoring the other, focusing instead on our food. A little ways down the table, I could hear sharp hisses being exchanged between Camille and Logan. It was enough for me to glance in their direction, but I couldn't hear anything, so I ignored it.

I went back to my food, just as James spoke up: "So, Katie, I heard this joke the other day, and I immediately thought of you."

I eyed him warily. "What is it?"

He smirked widely. "What do you call a good looking man with a brunette?"

"Lucky as hell," I responded.

"The answer's a hostage."

"Well, la-di-da, that was so fucking funny I almost peed myself from laughing," I deadpanned. "Here's one for you. What's the reason men prefer blondes? Because brunettes aren't as easy to get into bed."

"Hey!" Jo cried. "I resent that remark!"

I chuckled. "Sorry."

"Hmmph."

"Don't be rude to your fellow bridesmaid, Katie," James scolded me, waggling his finger under my nose.

"Do me a favor and shut the fuck up – "

Before James could even respond to that, Camille leapt to her feet. "I can't believe you, Logan. You want to postpone our honeymoon for _work_?!"

We all shrank back in our chairs a little.

"Oooh, this isn't going to be pretty," Carlos muttered. "Dumbass."

Logan looked up at Camille meekly. "You know how important work is to me…"

"And you know how important _our honeymoon_ is to me! Is this how it's always going to be, Logan? You choosing work over me?"

"Camille, sweetie, it's not like that. But I am an ER doctor and it's really imperative that I be there – "

"Oh, give me a fucking break. They have other ER doctors on hand. It's not like you're the only one in the whole fucking state of Minnesota, Logan. They can manage without you for two weeks."

"Yeah…but…"

"But _what_?"

"But…I love my job…"

"Ohhh, that was the wrong thing to say," James groaned, face-palming. Considering even _he_ knew that Logan was in deep shit, I didn't want to think about what was going to happen next.

"Well then," Camille said crisply. "I guess that means you don't need a wife to love." And with that, she stormed out of the room.

Everyone turned to Logan, but he just sank low in his chair, nose disappearing under the table.

Jo, Stephanie, Lucy, and I all leapt to our feet to chase after Camille. James followed close behind, and I didn't even bother shooting an insult at him over him over my shoulder. Instead, I just focused on figuring out where Camille had dashed off to.

We found her in the church's parking lot, about to get into her car.

"Where're you going?" Jo asked her, running her fingers through her smooth blonde hair.

"I'm leaving." Camille wiped at her eyes. "I can't do this. It's been like this our entire relationship. First it was school, and then it was interning at the hospital, and now it's work. I'm _always_ second fiddle and I'm sick and tired of it. I can't do this anymore."

"But – but – your wedding's tomorrow…"

"Not anymore. I'm calling it off."

"Cami, you can't just run off because you're upset," Lucy pleaded. "I just learned a whole classical piece on the piano for you! Don't make it go to waste."

"And I appreciate that, I do. And I know this seems sudden to you guys, but the thing is, I've been feeling like this for awhile; I just never said anything. Logan's never really listened and now…Wanting to put our honeymoon off so that he can practically live at the hospital? I'm sorry, but I can't do this, I can't come second to him, I just can't. I'm sorry." And with that, she climbed into her car, backed out of the parking spot, and drove off.

"What now?" Stephanie asked tiredly.

"Pray for a miracle," I suggested.

"Pray that Logan stops being a dumbass," James put in, before turning around. "Well, this is going to be a lame ass wedding without a bride."

"They'll get back together," I said, boosting some confidence into my voice. "They've broken up before and they always end up with each other again. They're meant to be together. And their wedding's tomorrow. She'll go home, drink a couple of beers, and in a few hours she'll call Logan and they'll reconcile. It's not a big deal, it's probably just nerves. I mean, come on. They love each other too much. It's just pre-wedding jitters, that's all. And if nothing else, Logan will realize where he went wrong and he'll fix it, he always does. We have nothing to worry about."

James nodded in agreement, hands in his jeans pockets. "They won't end up with anyone else. Because if they did, who knows what would happen?"

Truer words had never been spoken.

* * *

_**So...What'd you guys think? Did you love it? Hate it? Like it? Run away screaming? If you guys could do me a humongous favor and review and let me know what you thought of it, I would really appreciate it! :)**_


	2. Chapter One

_**Disclaimer: I do now own Big Time Rush or Panic! At the Disco's song "I Write Sins, Not Tragedies".**_

_**Guest#1: Thank you so much :) Hmm...we'll see. Thank you for taking the time to read and review, I really appreciate it!**_

_**bubblegum pop: I'm continuing it :) And thank you! And thank you for taking the time to read and review, I always appreciate it!**_

_**Me11: Excited for more Jatie? Thank you for taking the time to read and review, I really appreciate it :)**_

_**Guest#2: Thank you so much! Awesome! I hope that means you'll like the rest of this story :) Thank you for taking the time to read and review, I really appreciate it!**_

_**HUGE THANKS to everyone who has read, favorited, followed, or reviewed so far! As always, you blew me away with your responses, so thank you! You guys freaking rock!**_

_**A/N: You guys are probably in shock right about now. I'm actually updating only a couple of days after I posted this story. The reason for this is because I wanted to let you guys read an actual chapter, instead of a prologue that's less than 2K words. Anyway, this chapter is a slightly better example of what's to come, so I REALLY hope you guys enjoy it :) And shout out to Dana2184 who just posted a Jatie one shot which is AMAZING, so go and check it out!**_

_**Enjoy the chapter :)**_

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**One Year Later**

**Chapter One**

**Katie's POV**

I tapped my pencil on my desk, eyeing the computer screen. A Microsoft Word document was open, but it was blank. Completely, totally blank. In my opinion, there was nothing worse than an empty document, or a completely white piece of paper.

I let out a groan of frustration, before grabbing the open notebook. I had a short list of notes scribbled down, ideas for this particular article. But really, was it any wonder I was struggling with writer's block? I had recently been demoted from covering local news stories, to writing about the town's events. And not even political events, or concerts or plays or anything cool like that. No. I'm talking about the opening of a new shopping mall. Seafood Night's turnout at _Year of the Dragon_, a nearby Chinese restaurant. Really important stuff like that.

The reason for it? My ex boyfriend was the managing editor of the paper, and his father owned it. When I broke up with Preston, he decided to torture me with long articles about how the new shoe store just isn't up to snuff.

Granted, these articles weren't as bad as still being with him; that would be so much worse. But seriously, he could have taken the high road, or hell, even fired me. But oh, no, couldn't do that, that might make things too easy on me. So he gave me a crappy assignment, and now…I had to write a two-thousand word article on whether or not the high school bake sale was really worth anyone's time, or if they should have closed it down after the first fifteen minutes.

Yeah, really intriguing stuff. Just what I wanted to write about.

I snorted to myself. How the hell was I supposed to get two-thousand words out of this?! Out of a freaking high school bake sale?! It was freaking impossible! It freaking wasn't going to happen! But, I reminded myself, this was exactly what Preston wanted. He wanted me to give up, to fail. And I wasn't going to. I was going to write the best damn article on high school bake sales in the history of best damn articles on high school bake sales.

So there.

Hmmph.

I bit down hard on my lower lip, before taking a swig of coffee from the _I 3 Boys_ mug Camille gave me when we were in high school as a joke, since she was always complaining that I was all work and no play. But looking back on high school, I was thinking I had it right. All getting interested in boys had done for me was get me _thisclose_ to fired and was the reason behind why I was now trying to come up with positive, yet realistic things to say about sugar cookies. Yeah, boys were stupid. And I was pretty sure they still had cooties. Actually, they did. Only now the official term was STD. Or, as I liked to call it, _cheating germs_.

I snorted again at the thought. Yeah, I had gotten demoted because Preston couldn't keep his pants buttoned up. Remind me again how that's fair, me getting punished because he thought it'd be a good idea to sleep with a dozen different girls while I was out of town, on vacation with my friends.

Can you say _douche bag_?

I straightened my posture, placed my index fingers on the _F_ and _J_ keys, while resting my thumbs on the space bar, and waited for inspiration to come.

After a few seconds, I slowly typed in, _Maple Leaf Creek High School is infamous for their basketball and hockey teams – they're in the lead in the county playoffs – but what you wouldn't expect is how dedicated to said teams their families and friends are._

I nodded at what I had written. That was a pretty good start. I could do this. I could totally do this! Eat your heart out, Preston Gates, because you're not taking me down in your sick and twisted ways! You cheating bastard, you can go screw yourself.

I was just about to begin typing the next sentence when I heard someone asked Tiffany, one of the girls who covered the personals page, if she could direct them over to "Katie Knight".

My body tensed at once – I recognized the voice all too well. How did he find me?!

"Yeah, she's over there," I heard Tiffany say. A moment later, James Diamond responded,

"Thanks."

Well, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, and double, triple, and quadruple fuck. What the hell was he even doing here?! I hadn't seen him since Logan and Camille's disastrous wedding rehearsal dinner a year ago, and the last I had heard, he had moved down to Minneapolis to act in a theater down there.

Before I could even come up with a halfway plausible escape plan, I felt a strong presence come up behind me, and I gritted my teeth, before pursing my lips together.

"Katie Knight."

I spun around in my chair, crossing my legs as I looked up at the man standing in front of me. "James Diamond."

He gave me a small smirk. "It's been way too long, Baby Kat."

"Seriously? You're still calling me that?"

"Yep. You never really grew up."

"Look who's talking. You have the maturity level of a ten year old," I snapped back as I kicked the chair back around so that I was facing my computer again.

"Hurtful words, Baby Kat, hurtful words."

"Good," I responded as I began to type again. Within two seconds, I had three misspelled words. I growled under my breath and backspaced so that I could retype the sentence.

"Need typing lessons?" he asked, grabbing a nearby empty chair and dragging it over so that he could sit beside me.

"No, I don't," I snarled. "I just need you to get away from me."

"What're you even covering? The high school bake sale? I thought you were promoted to a full-fledged investigative reporter."

"Not full-fledged…" I hedged. "But close to it."

"So, what happen? You sleep with the wrong person?"

"Pretty much."

He stared at me, an eyebrow cocking up as his smirk returned. "Sounds juicy. What're the deets?"

"Deets? What are you, a twelve year old blogger?"

"Just trying to fit in around here," he replied. "So, what happened?"

I sniffed. "Like I'm going to tell you."

"You turn lesbian and sleep with the boss's wife?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He shrugged. "Not really. It's only hot if the girls put on a show."

I threw him a disgusted look. "You can leave now."

"You're throwing me out before you even hear why I'm here?"

"I figured you heard I hadn't hit rock bottom for crappy lives, so you came to push me down a little more."

"Surprisingly no, that's not why I'm here," he replied.

"Wow," I stared at him. "That is kind of surprising."

"I know. So, you're about to hit rock bottom for crappy lives? I can help you get there if you want. After all, the first step in recovering is admitting you have a problem."

I gave him a nasty look. "I don't have a problem."

"Are you sure? Because you were just talking about rock bottom, and honestly, you're looking a tiny bit thin."

"I'll have you know I'm at a healthy weight!"

"By all means, take this the wrong way, but you look like a freaking skeleton."

I glared at him. "I'm fine. I'm healthy. And you don't actually care, you just like insulting me."

He rested his chin in his hand while surveying me. "That is true, I really don't care. It's just that I keep getting the urge to shove about ten _Hot Pockets_ down your throat. The urge is almost overwhelming."

"Resist it," I advised him. "You shove anything down my throat, and it's going to get regurgitated all over you."

"Oooh, using big words now. Nice to see your college education didn't go to waste."

I flipped him off. "Fuck you."

"Yeah, you wish."

"No, you wish. I'm the only girl in this whole town who hasn't slept with you."

"Not true," he threw back at me easily. "I haven't slept with Jo Taylor, Camille Roberts, Lucy Stone, or Stephanie King."

"That's because they all have better taste."

James placed his hands over his heart. "Ouch. The bullets just keep on coming."

"And they will if you don't get away from me."

"I can't."

"And why not?"

"Because I'm here on personal business."

"Insulting me isn't personal business?"

"Nah, that's just fun."

I looked around for something to hit him over the head with. Where's a hammer when you need one?

"This is important," James added, his joking demeanor changing to serious. He even managed to look at me with something resembling respect.

"Okay," I sighed, turning in my chair so that I was facing him. "What is it?"

"I'm sure you've heard – Camille's getting married."

"Yeah, to Steve Trousdale, her high school boyfriend."

James nodded. "Right. But she's supposed to be with Logan."

"I'm sorry, is this _Twilight_? Camille's not meant to be with anyone except the one who makes her happy."

"I'm aware of that," he said quickly. "I do know that, Katie. And I want her to be happy, but I hung out with her and Steve last night, and they just don't have the chemistry or fire or…_anything_…that she and Logan had."

"That _anything_ is what broke them up," I reminded him. "Remember? We were there when it happened."

"Yeah, I know that. But they had so much."

"Well, maybe what Camille needs, instead of the chemistry and fire, is comfort," I suggested.

"Would _you_ want a comfortable relationship?" he asked me as he reclined in the chair and propped his feet up on my desk.

I placed my hands on his sneakers and tried to push them down off of my desk, but he resisted, grinning.

"A comfortable relationship would be nice," I grunted out as I put more strength into knocking his feet off my desk.

"But wouldn't you love a hot and fiery one?"

"They don't last," I responded.

"Says who?"

"Says anyone who's ever been in one. Says Camille and Logan."

"Bullshit. What are romance novels based off of? Fire, passion, sparks."

I groaned. "I am not having a discussion about romance novels with you right now!"

"Because you know I'm right," he said in triumph.

"No. Because that's just a weird thing to talk about when I'm supposed to be working! And get your feet off my fucking desk!"

"Get them off yourself," he replied. "Come on, Baby Kat, put some strength into it."

I responded by twisting his foot.

"Hey!" he yelped. "Not nice!"

I grinned. "Ha hah."

"Anyway," he rested his feet in my lap, "my point is, Camille and Steve are not going to last. And she just didn't seem as happy with him as she did with Logan. Rub my feet?"

"So, your point is that she's going to end up suffering from depression, and you're going to be recommending her your parents' divorce lawyer? And no way in hell."

"No. My point is that we need to show Camille how much she and Logan really miss each other, and how wrong she and Steve really are for each other. And why not? I don't have toe fungus or anything."

"And how do you suggest we do that? Play matchmaker? And I don't really care if you have toe fungus or not. I'm not rubbing your feet."

"As a matter of fact, that is how I suggest we do that. And you still haven't given me a legitimate reason."

"You want us to play matchmaker? Are you out of your fucking mind?! And why would I rub your feet? I don't even like having close proximity with your clothed body. Why would I want to have one on one time with your feet?"

"I always knew you had a foot fetish," came a smooth voice from behind me, and James and I both spun around, his foot falling from my lap and settling on the ground.

Standing there was Preston Gates, the worst ex boyfriend ever.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't have a foot fetish. And you really need a cowbell. Or maybe – ooh! You could wear a bell around your neck!" I gave him the double thumbs up and a wide, sarcastic smile. "Or you could just wear one on your zipper," I added as an afterthought. "Might help you keep your dick in your pants. Just a suggestion, though."

James grinned a little. "Wow, there's finally someone who you hate more than me. This is a sad, sad day. I liked being at the top of your shit list."

"Eh, don't worry. You're still number two."

"Still. That's disappointing." He let out a dramatic sigh. "Anyway, who's the guy who can't keep his dick in his pants?"

"James Diamond, this is Preston Gates. My _ex_ boyfriend." I made sure to put extra emphasis on _ex_.

"You son of a bitch," James said to him. "I remember you! You stole my girlfriend in tenth grade! To this day, I still can't believe she ditched me for someone named _Preston_."

"That was him? Dude!" I cried. "He was already sneaking around back then! It must be in his genes."

"Has to be. You know his dad's a serial cheater, right?"

"No! I mean, I heard something about that, but I thought it was just a rumor."

"Nope. One of my mom's friends has had…you know, _flings_ with him when his wife is off visiting her parents."

"Wow…it must be the money that attracts women, since it can't be their looks."

"Has to be the money."

Preston waved his hand at us. "Uh, hel-lo, I'm still standing right here. Are you two sleeping together or something? You replaced _me_ with _him_?"

James and I both stared at him, before simultaneously saying, "Gross!"

"We're definitely not dating," I informed Preston.

"Not even close. She's an annoying, stuck up brat," James added.

"And he's an obnoxious, horny pigheaded jerk."

"Hey, you got four insults in. I only put in three."

"Hah! I win!"

"She's also a sore winner," he said conversationally to Preston.

He responded with, "Your girlfriend liked the way I kissed her better."

"Yeah, whatever, that's old news. Like, nine years old. Move past it. Buh-bye." He waved his hand at Preston, before turning back to me. "I can't believe you went out with that guy."

"Yeah, I can't either," I replied, ignoring Preston, who was still standing there, gaping at us in disbelief. "Not my brightest moment when I said yes to dinner with him. Then people wonder why I'm picky."

"And here I always thought no one wanted to date you."

"At least I don't hop from bed to bed."

"Call it a hobby. Like wine tasting."

"Well, I'm sure you do a lot of tasting."

He flashed me a grin, before glancing at Preston. "You can leave now."

"I'm the managing editor here! I practically run this place!"

"Do I look like I really give a damn? I'm trying to discuss something very important with Katie."

"You two are discussing bed hopping!"

"Well, we can't exactly discuss the big people stuff when you're standing right there. Go away."

"You go away!"

"No way. I'm nice and comfy and I'm enjoying annoying Katie."

"You don't work here! And you're distracting one of my employees!"

"She was already distracted. And I can't say I blame her. I'd be pretty distracted to if I had to write about vanilla cupcakes."

"Well, too bad for her. If she can't perform her job, then I guess there's no reason for her to still be here," Preston said, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"I can do my job!" I cried. "See? _See_?!" I gestured to the document. "I have some of it already written!"

"You also have _I hate James Diamond_ written underneath it," he informed me.

"I do?" I peered at the screen. Sure enough, underneath the small little paragraph were the words _I hate James Diamond_, typed over and over again. Guess I had been productive. "Oh, I guess I do. Cool."

"Once again, hurtful," James said to me.

"Okay," Preston said firmly to James, "you need to leave. You're annoying the hell out of me, and you're bothering our events reporter."

"Fine. I'll go. But only because _you're_ annoying the hell out of _me_, and I can't stand you. And also because you smell like a bottle of aftershave threw up on you. Overcompensating much?" With a smirk, James stood up. "When do you have a lunch break?"

"Hour after never," I replied.

"I'm serious."

"Yeah, so am I. I know what you want to discuss with me, and it's not going to happen. So forget about it. Leave."

"This isn't over," he informed me.

"God forbid."

"You just wait. You think I'm annoying now? I'm going to get so annoying you'll want it to be against the law. You'll want me arrested for it."

"I already want you arrested for it; that's nothing new."

James just smirked. "Yeah, we'll see. Au revoir, ma chérie. Adiós, scum sucker." And with a final grin at Preston, he headed off, sauntering out through the Gates-Hills Chronicle office like he owned the place.

Preston stared at me. "Was he always like that?"

"Sadly, yes. Actually, no, I think he's gotten better. Though he did get one thing right."

"What?"

"You are a scum sucker."

"Excuse me?!"

I shrugged. "You are."

"If I had the power to fire you – "

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You can't, only your dad has that authority, and he's probably off having one of his flings. Now, leave me alone, I have to get back to work."

"Hmmph." And with that oh-so mature response, Preston headed off.

The rest of the day followed in that vein. I did manage to finish the article, but when I turned it in, Preston returned it to me fifteen minutes later with so many 'suggested' and 'advised' corrections, that red ink was dripping through the paper.

I was not in a good mood when I reached my apartment door. I fished my key out of my purse and slid it into the top lock, and then into the bottom. I pushed the door open and let out a sigh of relief as I slipped into the apartment. I closed and locked the door behind me, and flipped on the living room light.

And then screamed.

Sitting on my couch was the number two pain in my ass – though he was about to get bumped up to number one permanently – as if he belonged there. Not only that, but my TV was on, blasting some hockey game so loudly I was shocked that the walls hadn't started shaking. And then there was the fact that his ankles were crossed, feet propped up on my coffee tail, just inches away from a beer can.

James grinned up at me and reached for his beer can, raising it up as if to toast me. "Baby Kat! What's crackin'?"

I stared at him. "Your skull, if you don't get the hell out of my apartment."

"Well, that's not very nice," he pouted at me, before taking a sip of his beer. "I'm not even making a mess, and you're already threatening me. Didn't your mother ever teach you that violence is never the answer?"

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to break and enter into girls' apartments?" I shot back, opening my purse back up and digging out my phone. "I'm calling the cops."

"Oooh, can you tell Chief Marcus hi from me?" James asked. "Oh, and remind him that it's his turn to buy the beers and fries."

"I really fucking hate you."

"Wow, I even got the _F_ word. Naughty, naughty." He clucked his tongue and waggled his finger disapprovingly at me. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

I threw my phone as hard as I could at his head. He ducked and the phone landed harmlessly beside him on the couch. So much for cracking his skull.

"Okay, that was just mean," he informed me, getting to his feet and stalking over to me. Oh God, I had forgotten how tall he was. I found myself backing right up into the wall, looking up at him. He snatched my purse from me and opened it, rifling through it until he had found my iPod, the paperback book I was currently reading, and my pepper spray, and had stuffed them all into his jeans pockets.

He politely handed me my purse back and gave me a chipper smile. "Don't want you throwing anything else at me."

"Fuck you," I growled.

"Maybe later?"

I wondered how his head would look sticking through my apartment wall.

I shoved past him and stalked towards my bedroom, thinking that maybe I could deal with him a little better if I was in comfortable clothes.

James followed me, and I groaned. "Look. It's been a long, hard day, and I don't actually want to deal with you right now."

"Well, that's fine, because I don't want to deal with you either. And if it wasn't for our friends' happiness, I wouldn't even be here."

I groaned. "Again with Camille and Logan…" I stomped into my bedroom and slammed the door behind me. A split second later, the door opened and James came gliding in. I threw him a nasty look as I began to pull out lounge pants and a baggy t-shirt. "Get out of my room."

"Not until you say you'll listen to me."

"I'm not going to listen to you."

"Then I'm not getting out of your room."

I let out a groan of frustration. "Well, close your eyes at least, because I'm about to get undressed."

"Why would I close my eyes? A girl's getting naked in front of me? I'm watching."

"No you're not! God, are you that desperate to see a girl naked that you have to settle for _me_?"

"As a matter of fact, I am. I haven't had my daily hook up yet, and I'm craving some kind of sexual satisfaction."

"Get out."

"Out of your room or out of your apartment?"

"Out of my apartment. Preferably through my window."

"But it's a three story drop."

"Exactly." I grinded my teeth together, before heading into the bathroom with my clothes. I changed quickly, before returning to my room. I half expected to find James still there, possibly going through my drawers, fingering my panties and thongs and stroking my bras, but he was nowhere in sight.

Well, good. Maybe he had finally gotten the message.

And then I heard the clang of a pan on the stove, and my eyes widened. Was he _cooking_ in _my_ kitchen?!

I stomped out there, and sure enough, there he was, standing in front of my stove and boiling water.

"I didn't know Neanderthals could cook," I snapped, leaning against the kitchen wall.

"I didn't know midgets could live somewhere besides the circus, yet here you are."

"Fuck off."

"With pleasure."

"I'm sure it would be. So, what're you doing with my pots and pans and my stove?"

"I'm cooking dinner."

"_You_?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, _me_. I'll have you know, I happen to be a pretty fucking good cook."

"Right, sure," I said sarcastically. "And I'm America's Next Top Model."

"Not in that outfit you're not. Spice it up, girl."

I growled under my breath. "Anyway, what're you making?"

He grinned at me. "You'll see."

I bit my lip, before saying: "I know what you're up to. You're trying to butter me up so that I'll listen to you and agree to your stupid plan."

"First off, my plan is not stupid. And second, would I really do a thing like that?"

"A: Your plan is the stupidest thing I've heard in a long time. And B: Yes, you would."

James shrugged. "Well, Baby Kat, we'll just have to see if it works, now won't we?"

I growled again, but sank down in a chair at the table. "Fine. Work your magic, Diamond. Work your magic."

* * *

_**So, there's chapter one. I really hope it was okay and that it made sense. In any case, please review and let me know what you thought! I love hearing from you guys :)**_


	3. Chapter Two

**_Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever, owned Big Time Rush. Okay? Okay._**

**_Guest#1: Thank you so much, and thank you for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it :)_**

**_Guest#2: She definitely does at times. Let's hope so ;) And I'm glad that you're enjoying their bantering. Thank you for reading and reviewing! I mega appreciate it :)_**

**_Orange-Coyote: Yay :) I'm really glad to hear that. Thank you for taking the time to read and review! I always appreciate it._**

**_bubblegum pop: ;) Thank you very much, and thank you for taking the time to read and review! I always appreciate it :)_**

**_kendalllover4lif: Yay, I'm glad you do :) And no problem! Thank you for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it :)_**

**_THANK YOU to everyone who has read, followed, favorited, and reviewed this story so far! You guys are awesome!_**

**_A/N: I was going to get this up on Saturday...and then I was going to get it up on Sunday...and then it was supposed to be up yesterday...and that clearly didn't happen. Basically, I've been lazy about updating, and I'm so, so sorry. I'd like to say that it won't happen again, but chances are it will at some point. So, um, sorry in advance...forgive me? Anyway, not a lot I need to say about this chapter, so I'll leave it at that. Oh, and as always, shout out to Dana2184 who I'm hoping gets around to updating one of her stories soon._**

**_Enjoy the chapter :)_**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Katie's POV**

I settled down on the couch and snatched the remote up, turning down the volume and flipping through channels until I managed to find a sitcom. I stretched out, doing my very best to ignore the clanging coming from my kitchen.

Dear God, was he playing the drums with my pots and pans?!

I cringed as one particularly loud CLANG echoed out.

"Don't worry!" James called to me. "Nothing's broken or on fire – yet."

I clenched my fists, about ready to start tearing into the couch. Or maybe just start tearing his hair out of his head.

There was a splash of water. Oh my God, he was flooding the kitchen!

"What was that?!" I cried.

"Noah's Ark arriving."

"I'm serious!"

"So am I! You really need to do something about the water pressure, it could pass for the Great Flood."

I groaned. "Just stop talking."

"I will when you will."

"It's my apartment!"

"And I'm your guest!"

"Actually, you're my trespasser."

"I'm your trespassing guest."

"Not a guest!"

"Not a trespasser either."

"How about a pain in the ass?!"

"A pain in your ass?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes."

"Okay!"

I groaned again and rubbed my temples. I was getting a James-induced headache.

More clanging, more splashing, more fire hazards.

And then a smell – an almost delicious one – began issuing from the kitchen. I sniffed the air cautiously. Knowing him, he'd try to poison me and then run out of my apartment, laughing hysterically.

It had happened once in a dream, and I never forget dreams.

Granted, the poison had just turned my face green, and James had returned a little while later to throw water on me and scream "She's melting, she's melting!" but still.

I wouldn't put any of it past him.

I pushed myself to my feet and headed into the kitchen to see what James was making. The pans were all covered, and he was rinsing off a spoon at the sink. "You really should do something about the water pressure," he told me. "The spoon was a lot straighter before I turned the tap on it."

I rolled my eyes. "What're you making?"

"Dinner."

"I know that. What kind of dinner?"

"The kind you eat."

I threw a glare at him and stomped over to the stove. I lifted one of the lids off of the pan and leapt back as a huge puff of steam went whistling out.

"Steamy," James grinned. "Let's see what you can do with the pasta now." He pointed to the other pan, before walking over to it and lifting the lid.

"Spaghetti?" I raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

"Yes, really. You need the extra carbs. You're not getting any less skeletal, you know. And besides, you love spaghetti. I even put olives and mushrooms into the sauce because they're your favorites."

I blinked at him, before checking on the sauce and grabbing the spoon from him that he claimed was now bent, and stirring the sauce. I spooned some up into my mouth, and my eyes widened. "Holy fuck! This is fucking amazing! Fuck, James!"

"Foodgasm?" he grinned as he pried the spoon out of my fingers. "I really wish I'd gotten an audio recording of that, then I could use it to blackmail you, since, you know, after listening to it people would think that we were having the best fucking sex ever."

"Gross."

"Hey, you wouldn't be able to blame them. You're a screamer, aren't you?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but no, I'm not."

"Really? Because you sure screamed when you tasted my sauce."

"It was one time. Your sauce tasted delicious."

"I know it did. It's why it's mine. Everything about me is delicious."

I snorted.

"Anyway, you still need to do something about the pressure, because it's coming out way too hard."

"Well, maybe if you didn't press down so hard on it, it might not come gushing out!" I shot a glare at the tap, which was still running, before stomping over to it and tried to turn it off. It was stuck. Just my fucking luck. "Okay, why is this so hard?"

"Because it's turned on and there's too much pressure on it. Here, let me try. Here's how you handle it." He pushed me aside and slammed the tap back. "There you go. And that's how you do it. That should keep anything from spilling out."

"It better," I growled. "Because I don't need any messes in here."

"It will. No leaking, I promise."

"Good. Because if there is leaking, you're in major trouble with a capital T!"

"Oooh, look who knows how to spell. Yep, those four years of college definitely were put to good use."

"Will you shut up and just work on your fucking sauce?!"

"Fine, as you wish, Princess. Let's see if I can make it good for you."

"You do that."

He grabbed another spoon, adding a couple more spices to the sauce, and began stirring it before tasting it. "Oh yeah, things are getting good now. This is fucking amazing."

"I'm glad you think so."

"I do. I'm fucking awesome at this. Seriously, I could get paid big money for this."

"Uh huh. Sure. Whatever you say, Diamond, whatever you say."

"Just you wait. It's going to make you scream in ecstasy when you taste it."

"Quit overselling yourself, it's pathetic. I'll let it speak for itself."

"It will. Just wait. It'll be the best damn thing you've ever had."

"Sure. Fine, let me try it." I yanked the spoon out of his hand and dipped it into the spaghetti sauce, but before I could, there was a knock at the door.

I passed the spoon back to him and stalked to the door, throwing it open. Mrs. Fields, my landlady, stood there. She was an older woman who was about my height. And if James was going to shove food into anyone's mouth, it should be hers, because she looked like she had been part of the Donner party.

I gave her a smile. "Hi, Mrs. Fields, what can I do for you?"

"Hello, Katie," she squeaked out. "I just finished inspecting the apartment next door for any general issues before I put it up online to be rented out, and I remembered talking to that handsome man earlier, so I thought I'd come in and see how you two are doing."

"We're doing…as good as can be expected."

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear that! And it's so nice to know that you're moving on past Mr. Gates."

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, you have a new boyfriend! And such a handsome and charming one, too. Let me tell you, if I was forty years younger, I might try my luck with him. If he wasn't courting you, I mean."

I stared at her, open mouthed. Boyfriend? Courting? Forty years younger? Handsome and charming? _What_?

I was so confused.

James chose that moment to walk out of the kitchen, the top buttons of his shirt unbuttoned and his face a little flushed. "You need better ventilation in there," he informed me, before turning to smile brightly at Mrs. Fields. "Well, Mrs. Fields, how lovely to see you again."

Mrs. Fields beamed at him, before taking in what was visible of his chest. Even I had to do a double take. His pecs looked larger than my breasts. And while I preferred to be the one with the chest when I was with a guy, the size of his pecs kind of made me wonder what else was under his shirt.

Or under his jeans.

James was right, I seriously needed better ventilation in here.

"I'll go open a window," I mumbled, and rushed over to the living room one. The second I started thinking about James'…thing…was the second I knew things were getting too hot in there. The room, I mean! Not…gross. Ew. Blech.

Dry gagging, I threw the window open, momentarily considered removing the screen, decided against it, since pushing James out the window would be considered murder, and hurried back over to James and Mrs. Fields.

They were chatting like old friends, about – what else? – Mrs. Fields' eight cats.

"And I'm considering getting a ninth one," she informed him.

"Aww, what kind?"

"A tabby."

"Boy or girl?"

"Girl."

"Well, she'll be adorable. So, you live alone? Besides your cats, I mean."

"I do. My husband passed away five years ago, and I just haven't moved on. Maybe if I was to find the right man…" She looked up at him from under her lashes, and I fought the urge to gag again.

"Well, as you can see, James and I are doing fine here! Thank you so much for stopping by, I really appreciate it," I said to her quickly.

"Oh, nonsense."

"Well, I'd invite you to stay and chat some more, but you must be awfully busy – "

"As a matter of fact, I have nothing going on this evening." She sat herself down smartly on my couch and crossed her legs, peering up at James and me expectantly.

James and I exchanged looks. I was pretty sure he had found this entire thing hilarious until she had come onto him. Now he looked just how I felt – slightly sick and disturbed. Of course, I wasn't sure if feeling sick and disturbed was from thinking about what James was hiding under his jeans, or if it had emerged when Mrs. Fields had tried to flirt with him. Probably a little of both.

James snapped back into polite mode before I was able to move past the image of Mrs. Fields doing her very best to look at James coyly. "Would you like some tea?" he asked her sweetly.

"That sounds lovely! What kind do you have?"

James shot me a look, and I rattled off the teas I knew I had in the kitchen: "Earl Grey, blueberry, green, and orange spice."

"I'll take Earl Grey," Mrs. Fields replied, and I nodded, heading towards the kitchen.

"Wait! I'll help you!" James cried, dashing after me. We pushed back through the kitchen door and turned to face each other.

"She thinks we're dating!" I hissed at him.

"Didn't stop her from hitting on me!" he hissed right back. "Just make her the fucking tea and then send her on her way. She and her eight cats are creeping me out!"

"I thought you liked cats."

"I do, but three of them have already died – and they're fucking stuffed!"

"Yeeecchhh…" I recoiled slightly.

"I know! If we don't get her out of here, she might make us go down to her place and pay our respects to Minnie, Jasper, and Lila!"

I shuddered and got to work on boiling a kettle of water. "How's the sauce and pasta?"

"Done. Well done." He turned the stove burners off and tasted the sauce. "Ooooh yeah, that's fucking perfect."

I rolled my eyes. "You're so vain."

"You try the sauce," he prodded me, before handing me the spoon.

I shook my head, but dipped the spoon back into the sauce. "Your germs and my germs are going to be collecting in the sauce, just to let you know."

"Don't you dare say that about my sauce!"

"You're such a drama queen," I informed him, before taking a sip. "_James_! _Fuck_!" Fuck, he was right. That was fucking amazing.

"You like that, don't you?"

"I love it! Seriously, if I didn't hate you so much, I'd have you come over more. I'm just never good with these things."

"You have to have the hands for it," he informed me. "I mean, check out the balls." He indicated one of the meatballs that was bubbling up to the surface. "See? You have to roll them just so, otherwise they won't be right."

"Ah, okay, that makes sense. See, I didn't know that, no one ever told me that. But since I usually do this alone…"

James nodded. "You don't have to worry about them?"

"Pretty much. I never even have them when I'm by myself."

"Well, hopefully these will make you very, very happy."

"We'll see. They're certainly big enough." I prodded one of the meatballs in the pan with the spoon. "You know, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to get my mouth around one of these."

"Well, I figure they're better when they're bigger – more meat," he replied. "And a lot more filling."

"Definitely," I agreed. I lifted one up and my eyes widened. "These are heavy!"

"Well, duh. They'd have to be to hold so much," James pointed out.

"True. Yeah, definitely not going to be able to get my mouth around these. Damn, this is all going to be so messy."

"Hey, it's meat. Who the fuck cares?"

"Very true," I said, before furrowing my brow. Huh. I could have sworn we'd just had a rational conversation. Well, that was a little weird, not to mention unheard of. Us talking civilly was rarer than seeing Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster hanging out in the same swamp.

"What?"

"Nothing – " the kettle emitted a high pitched whistling sound, a bit like a train whistle, and I turned the designated burner off and poured Mrs. Fields her tea. I placed the teabag in it and bounced it up and down a few times, before carrying it out to her. If she asked, I was out of sugar, I was out of any kind of artificial sweetener, and I was lactose intolerant, so I didn't drink milk. Not true, but I didn't need her hanging around here any longer, calling James my boyfriend, and then hitting on him.

A – It was an insult right there to imply that I would ever date him.

And B – If I was dating him, than that made her a royal bitch, slut, and cougar, for trying to steal him away from me!

People these days.

I stalked back out into the living room with James following close behind me. Mrs. Fields' eyes widened when she saw us. "If – if I was interrupting something – you could have just told me – "

"What're you talking about?" I demanded.

"I – I mean – obviously with a boyfriend like that, you wouldn't just be sitting around and talking – "

James and I both blinked at her in confusion.

Mrs. Fields got to her feet and hustled towards the door. "I mean, I have no problems with sex without marriage, these are very different days than the ones I grew up in, but to do it when there's a guest in the next room!"

James and I gaped at her blankly.

What was she going on about?

"I _heard_," she informed us, eyes bugging out slightly. "All that talk about balls. Really, such obscenity!"

My eyes widened and I almost gagged again. She thought I was – oh God, it was all coming up, and that something was not the truth – I was pretty sure it was my lunch.

"Oh my gosh, Mrs. Fields, no! We were talking about – "

Before I could finish my sentence, James cut in. "Yeah, she was blowing me. She just can't keep her hands – and her mouth – off of me." He threw me a pointed look, which I took as a suggestion – the kind of suggestion that came with getting _Hot Pockets_ crammed down your throat – to follow his lead.

Oh God, it was all coming up again.

Fighting back the overwhelming urge to vomit, I said through gritted teeth, "Right. Yeah. That was _exactly_ what was happening. Me blowing him. Yeah, totally. Because the idea of having his dick and his balls near my mouth doesn't make me want to vomit _at all_."

Mrs. Fields shook her head. "Honestly, young people…! Such indiscretion!" And with that, she bustled her way out the door, closing it with an echoing _bang_. Um, I mean, _slam_…

I looked down at the tea mug in my hands. "What am I supposed to do with this now?"

"Drink it?" James suggested. "Suck it up, and then swallow?" he smirked, obviously proud of himself.

"Oh, please. You know just as well as I do that I would never do that – " I shuddered " – to you. Especially near food."

"Well, thanks to you, she now things I have really huge balls, which signifies a really huge dick. Which means her vibrator is going to be coming out tonight – I think I'm going to be sick."

"Join the club." I marched into the kitchen and poured us each a glass of ginger ale. We downed our glasses like a shot, still shuddering when we were finished.

"So, dinner?" James asked, eyeing the pans.

I nodded and got out plates, forks, and napkins, before carrying them out to the little area off of my living room. I set the table and James brought the food out. We sat down and dished ourselves up, before digging it.

There were several moments where we just focused on our food, but James has never been good at keeping his mouth shut for very long.

Part of the reason why he was number two on my shit list.

"So, let's talk about Camille, Logan, and Steve."

I groaned as I twirled some spaghetti onto my fork. "How about, let's not and say we did?"

"I'm serious. Look, this is about both Camille and Logan. This is about their happiness, Katie. And since you consider yourself to be a goody-goody two shoes and all that shit, you should want to do this."

"James, they broke up for a reason. They weren't meant to be."

"No, that's the fuckery they keep sprouting. We both know they're destined for each other and all that romantic crap."

"Wow. _Romantic crap_. How…romantic."

"Whatever. My point is, is that we have to keep Camille from making the biggest mistake of her life. She can't marry Steve, because if she does, she'll be miserable. Look, I don't have anything against Steve, except that his hair looks perfect without any hair gel – or so he says," he added with a skeptical snort. "Which I really doubt is the truth, because no one's hair looks that good without any hair gel. Anyway. As I was saying, Steve isn't a bad guy. He's pretty cool, but he's just…boring."

"Aren't you the one who used to call Logan _Doctor Horrible-y Boring_?"

"Oh yeah, I came up with that name after watching _Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog_," James said conversationally.

"Clever."

"Hey, I thought so. Anyway, Logan was only boring when he was doing homework. When he was doing a science project or chasing after me with needles, then he was pretty interesting. And that's my point. Camille's interesting. She's full of life, she's adventurous, and she loves exciting. So what the fuck is she doing with Boring McBoring?"

"Well, here's a theory for you – maybe she loves him."

"I'm sure she does. I just don't think she's _in_ love with him. Trust me, Katie, that marriage isn't going to last long. And when it does…" He made a sliding motion with his hand while making sound effects to go with it.

He could win an Oscar for his one man show.

"Maybe we should, you know, stay out of their business and let them make their own mistakes," I suggested. "I mean, I'm not exactly an expert on love, and you certainly aren't, so we'd probably be more help if we just kept our noses clean and away from their relationship – _relationships_," I corrected myself. "Plural."

"Yeah. Which is the problem, Katie. It's plural. It should be single. Steve shouldn't even be in the picture! I mean, how did he even get back with Camille?"

"I guess they met up after she and Logan broke up," I shrugged.

James shrugged. "How about I make you a deal?"

"Oh no…I don't want to make a deal with you. I'm pretty sure all the girls who have made deals with you have ended up naked and under you with their legs over your shoulders."

"More like naked and on their knees, but I'm not talking about that kind of deal."

I continued to eye him warily.

"Okay, look, I'm supposed to meet them for dinner tomorrow night. Come with me and see for yourself what they're like together."

"Who says I haven't seen them together?"

"Have you?"

"Well…no…But we've all been busy!"

"Well, you have the chance now. Come with me and if by the end of the night you still think they can make it work, than I won't bother you anymore. Well, I won't bother you about _them_ anymore. I'm still going to annoy the hell out of you, because it's fucking fun." He grinned, his eyes glittering mischievously.

I took a bite of spaghetti. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you," I informed him, before letting out a small sigh. "Okay. Let's do it. But I'm not doing this because you said you wouldn't annoy me. I'm doing this because the truth is, you wouldn't drive me up a wall over this if you didn't feel passionately about it."

"Did you just say I'm a good person?"

"God, no!" I yelped. "Don't put words into my mouth! But I know you care about Logan and Camille, and you, somehow or other, have managed to find a way to have their best interests in your Tin Man heart."

"Aww, a _Wizard of Oz_ reference! How adorable!"

"Yeah, you're still as irritating as ever. Nice to see that much hasn't changed."

He flashed me a grin from across the table. "You should know by now, I'm never going to give up on irritating you. You're just too much fun to drive bat shit crazy."

"Thank you so much. Eat your food."

James chuckled, but did so.

To my surprise, he actually cleaned the kitchen up and washed the dishes, which gave me the opportunity to give my brother a call. Kendall played center for the Minnesota Wild, just as he had always planned to, and was even busier than I was, so our means of communication were pretty limited to texting and playing phone tag when we were feeling particularly adventurous.

While James was fighting with the kitchen tap, I retreated into my room with my phone and dialed Kendall's number.

He answered on the third ring. "Hey, baby sister. Long time, no see – or talk. What's up?"

"Well, I got an interesting visitor at the newspaper today. And then that same person managed to get into my apartment and cooked me dinner and now my landlady wants to sleep with him, even though she's convinced she heard me giving him a blow job when we were in the kitchen, hiding from her."

"Um…What?"

"Look, James showed up at the newspaper today."

"And he broke into your apartment and you thought that would be a good reason to blow him?! Katherine Claire Knight! I thought I taught you better than that! Didn't I always tell you that guys are evil, evil creatures?"

I groaned. "I didn't blow him! My landlady just thinks I did…"

"Why…?"

"It's a long story…"

"Do I want to hear it?"

"Probably not."

"Yeah, don't think I'm going to bite. So, what does James want? You two don't like each other, so why would he come to your work, and then break into your apartment?"

"He wanted to talk to me about Logan and Camille."

"Oh…"

"Yeah. He wants me to have dinner with him, Camille and Steve tomorrow night."

Kendall choked. "Like a date?"

"No! Just as friendly enemies."

"Right…"

"But, um, what do you think of Camille and Steve? Of their relationship, I mean. James said some stuff, so I'm kind of wondering."

"Their relationship's pretty normal. Boring. Nothing special. You wouldn't look twice at them walking down the street, anyway. Which is surprising, since even though Logan's always been the nerd, you would definitely stare if you saw him and Camille coming towards you."

"Why?"

"Duh, the chemistry. They had beyond insane chemistry."

"But Camille doesn't have that with Steve?"

"Meh. They've got it, I guess. Just…it's not very intense…or noticeable…"

"Right…"

"So, is that all you wanted?"

"No, of course not. I also want to know when I'm going to get to see you again."

"I think Mom's going to have a family brunch on Sunday after church," Kendall replied. "All of us – James, Logan, Carlos, Jo, Camille, Logan, Stephanie, Lucy, you and me, we're all invited."

"Oh, I think Mom sent me an e-mail about that…"

"Yeah. So, you can see me then."

"I'll definitely take you up on that – wait, church? She's going to church again?"

"Sure is. Oh, um, she might want you to go with her…She's already roped James and me into going."

"Isn't that dangerous? I'm pretty sure if James sets foot in the church, it'll be struck by lightning."

"Ha, hah, very funny!" James called from the kitchen.

I shrugged and called back, "Stop eavesdropping!" before turning back to my conversation with Kendall. "But sure, I'll go. Nothing wrong with going to church. It's supposed to be good for you."

"Unless it's Pastor Wilbur. I mean, seriously, who even names their kid _Wilbur_ anymore?"

"Ummm…"

"Well, I've gotta get up early for hockey practice, so I'll let you go. Night."

"Night." We hung up, and I stared at my phone, not sure which I was dreading more – dinner with James, Camille, and Steve, church with my mother, brother, and James, or brunch with everyone who I had grown up with…

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_**So, that was the second chapter. What'd you guys think? Did you love it? Hate it? Like it? Please review and let me know :)**_


	4. Chapter Three

_**Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I definitely don't own Big Time Rush.**_

_**Guest (btrfanfiction1516): Did you really? That's so awesome - and a little ironic in a way ;) I'm so happy you're enjoying the story, and thank you for taking the time to read and review, I always appreciate it :)**_

_**Guest: Does that mean you were laughing? Thank you for taking the time to read and review, I mega appreciate it :)**_

_**Guest#1: I'm glad you enjoyed it! Agreed, but it's necessary for the story. Do you really? ;) Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review, I really appreciate it!**_

_**Me11: Maybe a little. He can be, but, not to spoil anything, he has other sides to him as well. Thank you for reading and reviewing, it's always appreciated :)**_

_**Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favorited, or reviewed this story! You guys rock!**_

_**A/N: So, ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the third chapter? Not really a lot to say about this chapter, just that you finally get to see James' perspective on some stuff which I hope will be a welcome change.**_

_**Enjoy the chapter :)**_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**James' POV**

I figured after everything that had happened the night before, I was lucky to be alive. The afternoon after breaking into Katie's apartment, getting hit on by her neighbor, and then being accused of letting her mouth (and teeth!) get anywhere near my dick or balls, I winded up meeting Logan for lunch.

"So, how've you been?" I asked him once we were settled down in our favorite café.

Logan eyed me warily. "Are you asking in the general sense, or about something specific?"

"Both."

"Well, my internship at the hospital is going really well," he said brightly. "I mean, the twelve hour straight stuff is killer, but it's worth it when you manage to save someone's life."

"Uh huh," I said blankly as he launched into a description about how he saved some guy's life from a bench seat or a metal rod or a Nokia cell phone or something. I don't know, I wasn't listening. Around the third word of his sentence, I tuned him out. The only thing I knew about doctor internships was what I had seen on _Grey's Anatomy_ when my mom would watch it. She was in love with Patrick Dempsey, and I'm pretty sure he was the main reason why she watched it. If Doctor McDreamy had suddenly turned into Doctor McHorrible, she would have flipped the channel to _Gossip Girl_ and never looked back.

She's got a thing for good looking guys.

"…Anyway," Logan finally finished off, "that's how things have been going. How about for you?"

"Oh, um…the usual, I guess. I saw Katie yesterday…and last night…"

Logan's eyes widened. "Last night? Like…where?"

"In her apartment."

"James!" Logan gasped out. "She's like our little sister!"

"Speak for yourself. I've never been able to stand her. Little brat…"

Logan gaped at me. "You should be ashamed of yourself! How could you say something like that about her?"

"What the hell are you talking about? I've always talked about her like this!"

"Yes, but to talk about her like that after last night!"

"Look, I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it, but the fact remains, she's still a brat. And she's so uptight. And she can't even fit her mouth around a halfway decent sized piece of meat."

Logan's eyes enlarged to the size of saucers.

"And apparently she's not very good with rolling balls. And she puts too much pressure on stuff. She does appreciate how good my sauce tastes, though…"

"Sauce…? Like…?"

I gave him a weird look. Seriously, what was his problem? What was so weird about sauce? "Yeah, like that…Anyway, she says she's not a screamer, but I had her screaming, _Fuck, James_! while she was eating it."

Logan dry gagged. "TMI! TMI!" he squealed out.

"Dude, seriously, what's your problem? It's just Katie."

"My problem is that you're going into – into – details…I can't believe there's _details_ with you two…details…sordid, disgusting, filthy details…"

I stared at him, before a light bulb slowly flicked on in my head. "Ohhhh…you thought I meant…No! No! I swear, Logan, I didn't sleep with Katie. I made spaghetti and meatballs last night, and, you know, my meatballs are pretty huge."

A passing waitress smirked at me and said silkily, "I bet they are."

I smirked back, before looking at Logan. "Seriously, all we did was eat dinner. Nothing even remotely fun or sexual happened. All we did was talk and fight. Well, no, the fighting was fun. It's always awesome to get her so steamed and worked up about stuff."

"Right…So there's absolutely _nothing_ going on between you two?"

I shook my head. "I mean, we're having dinner with Camille and St – I mean, friends…"

Logan fiddled with his fork. "It's okay, you can tell me. I mean, obviously I know about the wedding."

"I know. But you're still in love with her."

"Be that as it may, she's gotten over me. And I have to accept that and move on."

"Yeah, but…you should fight for her. Don't let her go without staking your claim."

"She's not a piece of property, James! And she's not mine anymore. She made that very clear when she called off our wedding. So all I can do is wish her the best and move on to someone else."

"Well, that sounds boring."

"Not everything is fun and games, James. This is the real world, where sometimes you don't get what you want. Anyway, are you seeing Katie any other time?"

"Um, yeah, on Sunday. She's going to be at church and then at brunch with us, I guess."

"Wow, you two in church together…That ought to be interesting. I can't wait to see how you two manage to go two hours without cussing each other out."

"I'm seeing a lot of pinching and slapping in our future."

Logan let out a small laugh. "Believe me, I am too. And you won't be able to cuss at each other or try to kill each other in front of Mama Knight."

I groaned. "Ah, man. Sunday's going to be horrible. How am I supposed to go so long in Katie's company without annoying her?"

"No idea, man. No idea."

I sighed and signaled a waitress to let her know that we were ready to order. Fifteen minutes later, Logan and I were both chowing down on oversized hamburgers and fries, and slurping on chocolate milkshakes.

"So," I said as I took another bite of my hamburger and promptly washed it down with a sip of my shake. "Let's say Camille was maybe, say, not quite as happy with Steve as you might have been led to believe by certain lying friends, namely Jo Taylor and Lucy Stone. Would you try to win her back if that was the case?" I peered at him eagerly, and Logan blinked at me in return.

"I – I can't say."

"That's a sucker's answer!" I cried. "Dude, seriously, if you had the chance to win back the love of your life, would you do it or not? It's a yes or no question, Hortense! Yes or no!"

Logan stared at me. "I can't believe you just called me Hortense…"

"Yeah, I can't either. It kind of leaves a weird taste in your mouth…I'm starting to see why my mom made you change your name to Logan."

Logan rolled his eyes, before stuffing fries into his mouth.

"Come on, Logan, you're avoiding the question. Would you try to get Camille back or not?"

"For a fling? No."

"Well, what about permanently?"

"James, we already tried to do the permanent thing, but it didn't work."

"Because you two had a fight and she got mad and stormed out, and then you never followed her, and seriously, you're such a dumbass."

"Thank you so much for your vote of confidence, it means a lot."

"Look, you can't just let her go. I really don't think she's as happy with Steve as what Jo and Lucy keep chirping on about."

"Why would they lie?

"Because while Jo is in love with our best friend, she's still a bitch. And Lucy isn't in love with anyone and is also a bitch. They think you deserve what you're getting for not going after Camille."

"Well, maybe they're right. And maybe you are too. Maybe I am a dumbass."

"So, get un-dumb-assed, and man up! Woo back the girl of your dreams – and I just said _woo_. What is this, a fucking Shakespeare play? _Romeo and Juliet_?"

Logan shook his head. "If I really thought there was a chance, then yeah, maybe I'd give it a try. But the fact is, I just don't think I have a shot. If she really didn't want to marry Steve, she wouldn't have agreed in the first place. I'm sorry, James, but the happy ending you seem to want for Camille and me just isn't going to be happening."

I sighed as I sucked up some of my milkshake. Well. That wasn't the answer I had been going for. I was hoping he would feel enlightened and inspired enough to go after Camille himself. But if he was just going to sit around on his ass and not doing anything while the girl he had been in love with since he was fourteen went off and got married, then I'd just have to go back to my original plan – convince Katie to help me break up the wedding.

The reason why I wanted Katie to help me was because I knew her. I may not have been able to stand her, but she had a good heart, and she, like me, just wanted what was best for her friends. And once she saw how miserable Camille really was, she wasn't going to be able to just sit around and do nothing. She'd start scheming and plotting and together we'd be able to take out the wedding, get rid of Steve, and push Camille right back into Logan's arms. And then we would never ever have to speak to each other again. That last part alone sounded like pretty good incentive to break up the wedding.

Eventually, Logan and I finished eating and we paid the bill. Once we had forked out money for a tip, we got to our feet and headed out of the restaurant.

"Look," he said to me as we stepped out onto the sidewalk, "I appreciate you wanting Camille and me to work out. But the fact is, I screwed up, and she found someone who's probably better for her. We already had problems. She didn't think I was spending enough time with her, she was a complete drama queen, we just didn't fit."

"You are talking about your personalities, right…? And not about…your sex life…?"

Logan blushed. "No, I'm talking about our personalities. Our sex life was pretty incredible." A slight smile crossed over his face and by the faraway look in his eyes, I could tell he was reminiscing.

Okay then. Gross.

I clapped my hands in front of his face. "Hello, earth to Logan! I get your sex life was awesome, and that's cool and incredibly gross and all, but we were in the middle of a conversation."

"Right, sorry. Anyway, my point was, we were complete opposites. We were like you and Katie, only without the intense hatred and insane urge to strangle each other."

"Ah…"

"Yeah. So, you know, it just wasn't meant to work out. But thanks for caring, James. Oh, and when you see Katie tonight, tell her I can't wait to see her on Sunday." With a smile at me, he patted my arm and headed off towards his car, leaving me shaking his head.

That guy really was a dumbass.

Katie and I were meeting Camille and Steve at Maurice's, a French restaurant in the nicer part of town. It wasn't a formal restaurant, but it still required you to arrive fully dressed – no shorts or bikini tops allowed. Oh, and people with visible piercings and tattoos were frowned upon.

Snobs.

At 6:55, I pulled up beside Katie's car and parked, before climbing out. She was wearing a black coat, skinny jeans, and sparking peep toed high heels. She gave me a long look as I approached her.

"If tonight's horrible, your balls are going to be in jeopardy. And I'm not talking about your extra large, super sized meatballs."

"My balls are extra large and super sized too," I informed her with a grin.

"Gross, I didn't need to know that. Though I doubt that. I've long since figured out that one of the reasons why you act like a dick is to make up for your lack of one."

I paused, before cocking my head. "Oooh…burn. So, I guess the reason why you act like a boob is to make up for your lack of them?"

"Hmmph." And with that, she turned and stomped towards the restaurant, though she stumbled slightly in her heels.

"Hey, if you can't eat it, then don't dish it out!" I called after her.

"Oh, fuck you, Diamond!"

"You want to."

"Not on your life!"

I snorted and headed after her. Yeah, tonight was going to be a fucking blast…

We stepped into the waiting area of Maurice's, and I was immediately hit with the aura of rich, snobby people – expensive perfume lingered in the air, suit jackets were hanging up on a coat rack, and I was pretty sure the walls were paneled in dark gold. Or shiny mahogany. Either one.

Camille was apparently part of Maple Leaf Creek's elite now. Not that that really surprised me. Steve's father was our beloved mayor a few years back, and while he's retired from politics, he still gives to charities, eats at restaurants that cost more than my apartment's monthly rent, and buy his wife thousand dollar faux-mink coats. I know Steve actually went to Harvard for law, and he's a lawyer at his uncle's firm now, and making pretty fucking good money from what I hear.

It's amazing how Camille always manages to end up sleeping with the mega successful and ambitious guys. That's probably one reason why, even though we kissed in sophomore year, she never pursued a relationship with me.

Don't get me wrong, I'm super ambitious, but I'm not overly successful. True, my mom is Brooke Diamond, the CEO of Diamond Cosmetics, but her business only took off in the last few years. And I don't borrow money from her. I put myself through school, and I was currently living in a crappy apartment – although I fully intended to move, and soon – while auditioning for roles at the local theater. I had one audition coming up that I was really excited about – it was for Shakespeare's play _Much Ado About Nothing_. I played the male lead, Benedick, in high school, and I had been waiting for a chance to perform it once again. I was praying fervently that I landed the role, but until then, I had been practicing the scene I was going to be performing in front of my bedroom mirror.

Anyway, my point is, I haven't exactly been working steadily. When I was living in Minneapolis I was getting constant work, and my agent was also booking me for modeling jobs. But since the Maple Leaf Creek theater isn't particularly huge anyway…I had already decided that if I didn't get a role in this play, I would try the theaters in the nearest city, which was something my agent had been pestering me to do ever since I moved back to my hometown a month ago. And it had taken me a month to realize just how big a mistake Camille was making. Thus my little visit to Katie's work and then to her apartment yesterday. Plus, it's always fun to torment her. She's just such an easy target.

The maître d' approached Katie and me with menus and a look on his face that suggested he had just seen a couple of slugs in the kitchen. Either that, or else he could tell at once that Katie and I weren't even close to being part of Maple Leaf Creek's elite.

"Table for two?" he sneered out in an a la faux French accent.

"Actually, we're meeting a couple of friends here," I told him. "Steve Trousdale and Camille Roberts."

"Ah." He scoffed the word out like he couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea of ex Mayor Trousdale's son hanging out with such outlandish hooligans such as Katie and me. "Right this way, Monsieur, Mademoiselle." He led us into the main part of the dining area, past tables laid with pristine china and bathed in the golden glow of candlelight, and out through two French doors.

For a split second I thought he was going to kick us out, and then I realized he had brought us out onto an enclosed terrace overlooking the lake at the edge of town. It was less stuffy than in the main part of the restaurant, but just as warm and toasty. There were several tables set up a few yards apart from each other, and at the center most one sat Camille and Steve, enjoying a glass of wine in the candlelight while staring out at the lake.

A crisp white tablecloth had been spread over the table, and equally white china dishes adorned the table, with a bottle of some fancy-schmancy wine open and waiting to be finished off. Crystal chandeliers dangled like stalactites from the ceiling, casting the terrace in a golden flush, the illumination reflected in the floor-to-ceiling windows, little orbs suspended in the glass.

The maître d' cleared his throat, catching Camille's and Steve's attention, and they whipped their heads around to finally look at us.

Katie gave them a little wave and I dropped into the chair across from Steve, grabbing the bottle of wine and pouring myself a glass. "What kind is this?" I asked, sniffing it as Katie sank down beside me, scooting her chair as far away from me as was humanly possible without actually sitting at another table.

"1961 Chateau de Margot le Fleur," Steve answered, watching as I swirled the wine around my glass.

"Is it good?"

"It's expensive," the maître d' said in his hoity-toity voice, "so oui, it's very _good_."

"Maybe you should try saying that without a French accent," I suggested, taking a sip. "Eh, yeah, it's good for wine. Dude, could I get a beer?"

Steve looked like he wasn't entirely sure whether he should laugh or cry, and Camille had dropped her head into her hands. Like she would rather drink wine with three names and two French articles than good old fashioned American beer. I could remember watching Sunday afternoon football with her, Logan, Kendall, and Carlos before the disastrous wedding rehearsal dinner. She was always the first to crack open a can of Budlight and she was adamant about someone bringing nachos. The same was true when we would watch hockey games. The girl could be ladylike, but I knew from experience that she could hold her liquor.

Katie's lips twitched slightly before pouring herself a glass of wine as well. She brought the glass rim up to her mouth and sipped before raising an eyebrow. She didn't say anything, but I could tell she was about as impressed with the wine as I was.

The maître d sneered again before stalking off, leaving Katie and me with Camille and Steve.

I flipped my menu open, bypassing all the consommés and goat cheese tarts and escargots. Yeah, sorry, I wasn't in the mood to drink my dinner or eat snails. I was craving a fucking steak.

I located the steaks and decided on a prime rib with mashed potatoes and a side of salad with ranch dressing. I closed my menu and laid it flat on the table, resting my forearms against the edge as I surveyed Camille and Steve.

When Camille had been with Logan, they had always sat as close to each other as they could without actually crossing the lines of PDA. They would whisper and giggle to each other and sneak kisses every couple of minutes. But with Camille and Steve, they were just sitting there, actually looking at their menus. Katie and I had more chemistry than those two. Beached whales would have more chemistry than them.

I glanced at Katie and she looked back at me. I tilted my head at the happy couple and raised my eyebrows pointedly.

She shook her head and went back to her menu.

The maître d' showed up again a few minutes later. He set a glass of beer in front of me. "Are you ready to order?" he asked in a would-be polite voice if he didn't sound like he was snorting the words through his nose.

We all nodded and we each reeled off our dinner orders. He jotted them down before saying, "Should I put your orders all on one tab?"

Steve looked across the table at me, flashing me a smile. "Want to put them on two? I'll pay for Camille, and you can pay for your girlfriend."

There was a long pause during which Katie and I both blinked at him blankly. Camille snorted with laughter before trying to disguise it with a cough.

"What – what'd I say?" Steve asked in confusion, brow furrowing.

"Katie and I aren't dating," I clarified.

"We were next door neighbors for most of our childhood," Katie added. "And we could never stand each other. In fact, we went a good year without speaking to each other."

"Oh. Well, I don't get that vibe from you guys," Steve said slowly. "That you two hate each other. You're actually kind of cute together."

I fought back the urge to dry gag and Katie said quickly, "James doesn't do relationships and I don't do asses."

"But would you take it in the ass?" I wanted to know.

"That's not what I meant!"

"Don't get your panties in a twist, it was just a question."

"My panties are not in a twist. Can't you ever be nice?"

"No. You just called me an ass. I'll be nice when you're nice."

"And I'll be nice when you're nice," she shot back.

Steve's eyes widened and he turned to Camille. "Are they always like this?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Maître D' guy cleared his throat. "I'm still here. How many tabs am I putting your orders on?"

"Put ours on separate ones," Katie pointed back and forth between us. "I don't need that jackass paying for my food."

"Like I'd want to pay for your food. Do you hear me complaining?"

She rolled her eyes and took another sip of her wine, before making a face.

I smirked before sliding my beer over towards Katie. She wordlessly took a long drink and wiped her mouth on her wrist before passing it back to me. I sipped from it, humming in appreciation.

Camille started up a conversation about Steve's cases and how proud she was of him, before asking me how finding an acting job was going.

"Well, I'm hopeful that I'll be able to get the rule of Benedick in _Much Ado About Nothing_," I replied, "but if nothing else I could always try some theaters in other cities."

"And you, Katie?" Camille looked at her. "How's writing for The Gates-Hills Chronicles going?"

Katie shrugged. "It's not my dream job, but I'm making do."

"That's good."

"How about you, Cami?" I asked her. "Are you still acting?"

"No, I've slowed down on that," she answered. "Steve would really prefer me to stay at home."

Katie and I both blanched. Camille was not the stay at home type of girl. She preferred to get out and about, meet people, put on shows, travel, experiment, anything she could get her hands on, really. And Steve…Clearly he wanted a trophy wife to return home to in the evenings, the kind of wife who would always have his dinner waiting for him and would bring him his newspaper when he would retire on the couch in the sitting room.

Camille would never be happy like that. So why the hell she was agreeing to this was beyond me.

Our food arrived soon after and we ate. Once we finished, we paid our bills and got to our feet, heading back out through the restaurant.

We stepped out into the parking lot and Camille and Steve made their way to his car. The second the car doors had slammed shut, Katie spun around to face me.

"Okay. Okay. I'll do it. Fuck it. Camille's never going to be happy being Mrs. Steve Trousdale, no matter what she believes right now. I'll help you get her and Logan back together."

I grinned. "In that case, I do believe we have a wedding to crash before it even gets started."

Katie nodded and held out her hand. "Let's make a pact – we'll be partners in crime this one time, and once Logan and Camille are happy together once more, we'll never come near each other again."

I placed my hand in hers. "Deal."

"Good. Let's crash this fucking thing."

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**_So, Katie's agreed to help James with the scheming side of things. Should be interesting...Anyway, please review, I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions on what's going on :)_**


	5. Chapter Four

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush or anything else that is recognizable.**_

_**therush: Thank you so much, I'm so happy you're enjoying it! And thank you for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it :)**_

_**kendalllover4lif: Thanks! I think Jatieluv and I will eventually, but because we both have kind of crazy lives right now, it might not be happening anytime soon. I do hope you stick around though! And thank you for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it :)**_

_**InLogansBed: First of all, nice name ;) Second, thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it! He would, totally. Thank you for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it :)**_

_**Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, follow, favorite, and review this story! You guys rock!**_

_**A/N: Okay, so, this chapter is supposed to be more of a filler. Not a lot of important things happen in it, but you do get to find out a tiny bit more about James. He's a character who's becoming more and more complex as I write him, so please remember, if he doesn't always seem to make sense, it's because there's more to him than a pretty face and an obnoxious personality. You guys will get to see a little bit about that in this chapter :) I'm also dedicating this chapter to Dana2184 who's an amazing friend and is always willing to listen to me rant about whatever's wrong in my life, so thank you! If you guys haven't already, go and check out her stories and show them some love, okay? :)**_

**_Enjoy!_**

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**Chapter Four**

**Katie's POV**

It was a relief to get home to my apartment. I let myself in and closed and locked the door behind me, before leaning back against it with a sigh. I dropped my purse on the floor and padded into my bedroom. I stripped out of my clothes and slipped into my over-sized pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt, before sinking down on my bed.

I had no idea what I had just gotten myself into. I really didn't. I didn't have the first clue about breaking up a wedding, and I was pretty sure James didn't either.

I reached for my phone and sent a text to James: "_So, how exactly is this supposed to work? How are we going to break Camille and Steve up?_"

He replied a couple of minutes later. "_I was really hoping you'd have some suggestions…_"

"_Well, I don't._"

"_Damn it. Personally, I think if we can get Logan to admit that he wants Camille back and to decide to win her over, then it'll pretty much be taken care of._"

"_He'll be at the brunch on Sunday, right?_"

"_Yep._"

"_We'll start working on him then._"

"_Sounds like a plan._"

I set my phone down and stretched out. Well, at least we had the beginnings of a plan. That was definitely better than nothing. I drifted off soon after, curled up on the bed and dreaming of Logan and Camille getting married.

Early Saturday morning was quiet as usual. I was able to sleep in and enjoy the cozy warmth of my bed. However, I was fully awoken around ten by noise from the living room. Frowning, I pushed my covers back and got out of bed, making my way out there.

"Fucking hell!" I screamed when I saw James sitting on the couch, a plate of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and sausage balanced in his lap as he watched TV. "What the fuck are you doing here, you fucking prick?!"

James took a long sip from a cup of coffee – using _my_ cup – before flashing me a smile. "My apartment sucks rocks, so I figured you wouldn't mind if I dropped by. You just wake up?"

"Yes! Because it's fucking Saturday morning and I don't ever have people over on Saturday morning! Now get the fuck out of my apartment! How the fuck did you get in, anyway?!"

"Mrs. Fields," he responded. "She leant me a key."

"I'm going to fucking kill her," I mumbled, ripping my fingers through my tangled hair.

"Language, Katie," James said pristinely. "Whatever would your mother say if she heard you cussing like that?"

"Considering the situation, I think she'd understand," I breathed out. "Now. Get. The. Fucking hell. Out. Of. My. Apartment before I fucking murder you!"

"No."

"What the fuck do you mean _no_?!"

"I mean, no. I'm not going. I'm perfectly comfortable here. I have my sports," he nodded to the TV, "I have my coffee," he indicated his cup, which was resting on the coffee table, "and I have my food." He lifted his plate. "I'm not moving." And to prove his point, he switched his position, swinging his legs up on the couch so that he was reclining against the couch's arm, ankles crossed and plate resting on his stomach.

"Don't you have girls to fuck or something?"

"Nah. I'd rather eat."

"Okay, tell me the truth." I rubbed my hands over my face tiredly. "Are you impotent or something?"

He stared at me. "No, I'm not fucking impotent. I will have you know that I can get it up just fine."

"So why are you over here rather than screwing your normal sluts?!"

"First of all, they're not sluts. And second, I left them all in Minneapolis."

"Are there no bars? Are there no street corners?"

James gave me a look before stuffing a sausage whole in his mouth.

"Oh! I get it! You've gone gay! That explains so much."

"What the fuck are you going on about?" he demanded through his mouthful of sausage. "I'm not gay. I like pussy, not dick."

"Somehow, I'm not sure you'd care, as long as you got laid. Whatever. I'm going to go take a shower and by the time I get out, I want you gone."

"Uh huh."

I stomped into the bathroom adjoined to my bedroom and went through my normal routine, doing my business, brushing my teeth, and showering, before drying off and heading back into my bedroom. I threw on jeans and a t-shirt and walked back out into the living room.

James was still there.

"Okay, that's it. I don't call if we're teaming up on this. I'm calling the police."

"You do that. I'm friends with the chief of police, remember?"

"I really fucking hate you."

He just smiled sweetly at me. "There's more food. It's in the oven to keep it warm."

I scowled but headed in there anyway. I poured myself a cup of coffee and fixed it just the way I liked it before getting the rest of the food out of the oven. I made myself a plate and carried that and the cup into my living room. I sat down beside him and raised an eyebrow. Of course he would be watching hockey on a Saturday morning. Of course.

He scooted over to make room for me and I settled in, before taking a bite of my sausage. Sausage isn't my favorite breakfast food by any means, but he had done something to it because it was incredible.

"Did you sprinkle crack over this?"

James glanced at me. "What? No."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"No reason…" I took another bite.

"You like it?"

"No…"

His face split in a grin. "Liar. You do. You've already admitted that you like my cooking."

"No, I admitted that I like your spaghetti."

"And my balls."

"Your meatballs. There's a fine line between liking one dish and liking your cooking."

"But you do. You like my cooking."

"Just shut up and watch the damn game."

James shook his head and instead reached for the remote, switching the channel to Saturday morning cartoons. I smiled a little. When I had been younger I had spent my Saturday mornings watching all the different cartoons I could get my hands on. My favorites had been _Tom and Jerry_ and _Scooby-Doo_, and sometimes James would come over and watch them with me. Those mornings were the only times we were ever able to get along, but they were nice. Mom would fix us huge breakfasts along with gigantic mugs of hot chocolate and we'd sit on the floor in front of the TV, gulping down our food, eyes glued to the TV.

So watching cartoons with him now was a bit of a throwback to those days in elementary and middle school when for two or three hours we were the best of friends. It would always end when the final cartoon would finish, but for those few hours it was a nice change. And it was a reminder that not everything about him was obnoxious and horrible and annoying and irritating; that he had good points to him, that he had decent sides, that he wasn't actually as bad as I sometimes made him out to be. I mean, he was pretty close to being as bad as I always say he is, but not quite as awful.

I stabbed the fried egg yolks and yellow goo oozed out. I grinned a little. Apparently we liked our eggs the same way – over easy. I swept a sausage through the yolk and stuffed it in my mouth before starting on my bacon. Nice and crispy and perfect.

Damn it. He would make a great personal chef. Why did he have to be such an ass most of the time?

"When's your audition for that Shakespeare play?" I asked him. "_Much Ado About Nothing_?"

James swallowed a large gulp of coffee before answering. "It's Monday morning."

"Ah. If you don't get it, are you moving?"

"No. I'm staying here whether I get it or not."

"Here? You're not staying in my apartment."

He rolled his eyes. "I meant here as in the town. Although your place is much nicer than mine. I've been living off of a stage actor's salary and we don't make very much."

"I thought you did some modeling work."

"A little but not a lot."

"You should get back into it, make a little extra money. And with the way you cook, you could probably get hired as a cook or something at a restaurant."

"Um…thanks?"

I nodded. "So, yeah. Think about it."

"Will do. So. What's up with your ex boyfriend?"

"Preston? Pretty much exactly what you saw on Thursday," I replied. "Why?"

"Just wondering. He was even more self-absorbed than me."

I snorted. "You have no idea. He was like that in bed, too."

James didn't say anything to that. Instead, he set his fork down and stared at the TV screen.

"Seriously, I'm so happy to be rid of him. He was just a bad boyfriend all around."

"How was he bad in bed?"

I frowned. "Like I said, he was selfish. He was only concerned in getting off. Foreplay was pretty much nonexistent. It was kind of gross. I barely slept with him, which is probably one of the reasons why he cheated on me."

"Ah."

"Yeah. It seriously sucked."

"I'm sure."

"I mean, I never thought I'd say this, but I'd take you over him any day."

"Good to know."

"Not really…Those words left a really bad taste in my mouth. I think I need to go rinse my mouth out."

He cracked a small smile but didn't make a snappy retort. I furrowed my brow, leaning over and peering curiously at him. James had a really strange look on his face, and I couldn't quite read it, but I knew for a fact that I had never seen it before.

I poked at his cheek to see if his expression would change, and he gave me a weird look. Success!

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

"You looked weird," I shrugged. "I mean, weirder than normal."

"Gee, thanks so much."

I grinned. "Anytime." I finished off my bacon and my eggs and started in on my pancakes. "So, are you spending the entire day eating my food and sitting in front of my TV or do you have actual plans?"

"No plans at the moment." He stretched out, shifting his legs and draping them over my lap. I shoved them back to the floor. He placed them in my lap again, resting his foot against my stomach.

"Get your fucking feet off of me!"

"Make me!"

I tried to push his feet away from me but this time he was putting his strength into it. I couldn't even get them to budge. He grinned, cackling. Apparently his good mood had been restored by tormenting me.

Just freaking great.

I scowled at him but he just continued to laugh. Yeah, his spirits had definitely been lifted.

I set my plate aside and grabbed his big toe through his sock, yanking it back.

"Fucking hell, Knight!" he yelped, letting his legs drop.

"Fucking hell, Diamond!" I retorted. "I don't want your feet in my lap or on any part of me!"

"Too fucking bad!"

I reached over, pinching his nipple through his t-shirt. Before he could even think about retaliating, I blocked my chest with my other arm and prayed that my bra was thick enough to keep him away from my nipples.

He batted my hand away and instead dragged me down to the floor, pinning me under him. I yelped, hitching a leg around his waist and pulling him down on top of me before flipping him under me. He glared up at me as I straddled him, holding his arms over his head. "Now. Are you going to be a good boy and behave?"

James barked.

I let go of his hands and patted his cheek. "Good boy."

The next thing I knew, I was on my back again and he was hovering over me, a blazing look on his face. Holy fuck…he was fucking hot…And wow, that was not something I should've been thinking when he was pinning me to my living room floor. But it wasn't my fault! His hair was falling into his eyes, and his eyes were dark and smoldering and hot like a fire. His lashes were sooty, dramatically lining his eyes, and I couldn't help it if I gasped a little or if my breath caught just the tiniest bit in my throat. It wasn't my fault!

"Do I look like a dog to you?" he demanded, resting his hips against mine and my eyes widened. Well, shit. This wasn't supposed to be happening.

I managed to shake my head, my hair static against the carpet.

"Good." He stood up before reaching down and holding out his hand to me. I hesitantly took it, before yanking him back down. I may or may not have pulled him back down on top of me. In my defense, I didn't have any control over which direction he fell.

He stared at me. "Really?"

"It backfired a little."

"So I see."

"Well. This is fun."

"Yeah. Hey, you ever thought about having a fuck buddy?"

"Are you propositioning me?"

"Maybe. Since I'm such a huge man whore."

"Okay, get off of me." I shoved him away and got to my feet. "You're disgusting."

"It was just a question."

"I am not sleeping with you!"

"Oh, sure, you'll sleep with your dumbass ex but you won't sleep with me."

"I didn't realize he was such a dumbass when I dated him. And it only happened, like, four times. Which was four times too many," I added, shuddering. "Anyway, I'm not sleeping with you. And I seriously doubt you want to sleep with me. We hate each other, remember?"

"Right. Of course. How could I forget?" He grabbed our now empty plates and headed into the kitchen.

I followed him in. "Is something going on?"

"Nothing. Whatever. It's been awhile since I got laid, I'm just horny. I'm not thinking straight."

"Yeah, that would happen to you." I leaned against the wall, watching as he loaded the dishwasher up.

"Forget I ever asked."

"Already forgotten." My eyes slid down to his ass. Okay, his jeans were way too tight. Why couldn't he just wear sweats? He was leaving absolutely nothing up to the imagination.

"Good." The next thing I knew, he was washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. Huh. I wondered how he'd feel about getting a job as a maid. He would certainly keep some wealthy housewife happy. Hell, he would even make _me_ happy if he kept my apartment nice and clean. I wouldn't mind paying him for that, although I wasn't entirely sure I could afford it. But I was willing to give it a try. I could barely feed myself, much less make sure my apartment was dust free.

Once he was finished, James dried his hands on a dishtowel and turned to me. "So, what are your plans for today?"

"Ummm…nothing."

"If you let me stay I'll make you lunch and dinner."

"Will you clean my apartment for me?"

"Will you pay me?"

"Ten dollars a room?"

"Deal." We shook on it and he got started.

By the time evening rolled around, my apartment was practically sparkling with cleanliness. It was actually kind of amazing. And what was almost as amazing were the smells that were now seeping from the kitchen.

James had asked me what I wanted for dinner and I had suggested homemade pizza. I hadn't had that in years, but a quick look through my fridge and pantry revealed that I actually did have the ingredients. He had checked out a couple of recipes on his phone before getting to work on it.

"You would make a really good housewife," I informed him as I walked into the kitchen. I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and propped myself up on the counter, a little ways away from his workspace. "Or a good cook."

He flashed me a grin. "I aim to please."

I swung my legs, cracking the beer can open and taking a sip. "So, I owe you fifty dollars?"

"Yep."

"Oh, and I'll pay you for three meals as well."

"You don't have to do that." He propped the oven door open to check on the pizzas and nodded, before closing it again. "They're almost done."

"And you didn't have to cook for me all day. Granted, you let yourself into my apartment…Give me the spare key."

"No way in hell! Besides, what if you decide you want me to clean your apartment again while you're at work? I'd do it, you know."

"If I paid you?"

"Yeah."

I eyed him, putting the can up to my lips again and drinking. I set it on the counter and said, "You're pretty much broke, aren't you?"

He avoided my eyes as he pulled two plates down from the cabinet.

"James? Is that why you came back here? Because you're broke?"

He sighed. "I hit a run of bad luck in Minneapolis. I got in a fight with a prick director and word got out around the theater circuit. And I've never been able to keep any other job, so it wasn't like I could just get a job and make a whole bunch of money in time to pay my rent. I was working pretty steady up until then, but when I realized I wasn't going to be getting another job I figured it was about time to pack up and move back up here. And I still haven't found a job. I'm not just looking at theaters, Katie. I'm applying anywhere I can and it just isn't taking. I'm living in a dump of an apartment and I'm just plain fucking lonely."

I stared at him. "I honestly don't know what to tell you, James. I'm sorry, but I don't. But you can do odd jobs around here if you want, and I'll pay you for it, and you could probably get a job at your mom's place – "

"I am _not_ working for Diamond Cosmetics," he said firmly. "I'd rather be living out on the streets than working there."

"I – well – okay…I'll keep a lookout for any job openings," I promised him. "And I'm sure the others will do the same. Hell, they might even have some suggestions. You should've told me," I added quietly. "I could've paid for dinner last night."

"I'm not a fucking charity case, Katie. I have money, just not a lot. I'm making do with what I have."

I sighed.

He opened the door again and nodded in satisfaction. "They're finished." He pulled them out and dished us each up a slice. We sat down at the dining room table, neither of us saying anything.

I couldn't help but turn his problem over in my head. "James?"

"Hmm?"

"I might have a solution for you…"

He eyed me warily. "What is it?"

"You know how my mom runs a catering business?"

"Yeah…"

"She might hire you. You're a good cook, and she's always saying she needs more of those around, she can't do it all herself. Talk about it with her tomorrow."

James nodded, giving me a small smile. "I will. Thanks."

I gave him one back and dug into my pizza.

"I never knew you cared."

I rolled my eyes at his remark. "I don't. But you're my older brother's best friend and we're partners in crime for the time being. I don't want to see you thrown out on the street."

"Either way, I appreciate it."

I smiled again, and went back to my food.

* * *

**James' POV**

We ended up having dessert, watching reruns of dramas on TV as we ate our ice cream.

"You know," Katie commented as I got up to leave, "it's kind of amazing. You've been here for almost twelve hours, and I've only wanted to kill you a few times. It's a miracle."

I grinned. "Well, you did tell me to be on my best behavior…"

She stuck her tongue out at me before walking me to the door. She slipped me a wad of cash. "Here. Ten dollars per room, plus five dollars per meal."

"Katie…"

"Just take it. It'll help hold you over until my mom hires you and you're able to bring home a paycheck."

"Assuming your mom _does_ hire me," I pointed out.

She smiled. "Mom will. She loves you, thinks you're the best thing that ever happened to this world. I don't really see where she gets it from, but I don't question it. Believe me, she'll hire you."

"I hope so."

"She will."

I gave her a small smile in returned and headed out, pocketing the money. I made my way out to my car and got in, driving back to my apartment. It really was a piece of shit. I was lucky to get the heater to work.

I sighed, collapsing on my bed. I was definitely going to talk to Jenn about the possibility of hiring me. Cooking's a hobby and if I could get paid for that, then that would be pretty damn cool.

I could only hope that Katie was right.

* * *

_**So, what'd you guys think? Did you like it okay? Love it? Hate it? Please feel free to review, I love hearing your thoughts and feelings on the story! Hope you all have an awesome weekend :)**_


	6. Chapter Five

_**Disclaimer: If I owned Big Time Rush, I'd probably be hanging out with them instead of trying to finish a crappy English assignment while trying to catch up on writing. Therefore, I do not own Big Time Rush. Dang.**_

_**btrfanfiction1516: Yep, there's always that :) And I always have to make sure one of them has a difficult time. Thank you for taking the time to read and review, I always appreciate it!**_

_**As always, a huge thank you to everyone who read, followed, favorited, and reviewed :) It's always much appreciated!**_

_**A/N: So, what do I do after not updating anything for the past two weeks? I give you a guys a short filler chapter for this story. Hopefully something else will be updated tomorrow, but if not, well, enjoy this chapter! In any case, this was a fun one to write, and I hope you guys don't take a lot of this seriously. In any case, I hope it at least makes you smile :)**_

_**Enjoy the chapter!**_

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**Katie's POV**

I like sleeping in on Sunday mornings. I always have. As a kid, I didn't get to do it very often, though. I mean, I slept in later than I would have if I had to get ready for school, but it still wasn't as late as I would have liked. My mom was a big church goer for awhile, and roped my dad into going with her, so of course Kendall and I had to attend as well. It wasn't really a big deal, though. We had a children's bible study group at the church during the services, and most of our friends would go. And then afterwards, Kendall and I would go back home where Mom would make a huge brunch and…oh crap. Grandma would come over.

You know how everyone in this whole freaking world has a sweet and lovely grandmother? The kind who bakes you cookies and insists you're not eating enough and listens to you jabber on and on about school and friends? Kendall and I do have one of those – on our dad's side. Our mom's mother is…how do I put this nicely? She's a bitch. She's a snob. She thinks the world revolves around her, and she's just gotten worse in her old age.

That being said, I love her because I have to. But I can't stand her, and neither can Kendall. Come to think of it, she can't stand us either. She's always talking about our cousins, our aunt's kids, and how perfect they are and how beautiful they are and just how damn grown up they are. Also, I haven't seen her since last Thanksgiving and it's early September now. And Thanksgiving dinner was not fun in the least. She's one of those Christians who thinks if you don't go to church, then you're going to go to hell. I know a lot of people think that, but she takes it to the next level. She makes snippy remarks and insults you and threatens to take you out of her will. And Kendall's never been able to just sit there and take it – he always has to retort. Needless to say, the two really got into it, and Grandma stormed out of the house in a fit of rage.

Good riddance.

So needless to say, I was really hoping she wasn't going to be at Sunday brunch. But since I hadn't been to one since I was eighteen, I had no idea if she was still making regular appearances at them or not. However, I had a pretty good feeling I would be seeing her at church. With my luck my mom would make me sit with her and remind her to put a couple of dollars in the offering plates.

Maple Leaf Creek is a very traditional town in northern Minnesota. Its super Scandinavian – in fact, my grandmother insists that it was named after Leaf Erikson, the Viking who originally found America. According to the Maple Leaf Creek town museum, it was actually named after the maple trees that are scattered through the town – and the state – but Grandma has always insisted that it was named after a Viking, damn it!

As a lot of traditionally Scandinavian towns seem to be, Maple Leaf Creek is very pointedly Lutheran. There are a couple of other church denominations scattered through the town, but it's mainly Lutheran, with a huge church that a good eighty percent of the population does or has attended. And since my entire family just happens to be Lutheran, I was pretty sure I could rely on seeing Grandma at church – and probably demanding to know why on earth I didn't go and repent my sins on a more regular basis.

She's a lovely old woman, she really is.

I groaned as I dragged myself out of bed. The service began at nine, and it was seven-thirty now. I managed to get myself into the shower before stumbling back to my bedroom. I threw on a black knee-length skirt, a blouse, and boots, before glossing on a little bit of makeup and snatching up my purse. I slipped my black blazer on and hurried out to my car. I ended up making a pit stop at Starbucks for a coffee and a muffin, before continuing onto the church.

Every Sunday morning more than half of the town gathers at St. Paul's Lutheran Church, so it was a madhouse by the time I got there. It was like Taco Night at the tavern on Friday evenings. I've been to Taco Night. There is nothing redeemable about it. It also happens to be the town's favorite type of night.

Did I mention we're a real classy place? We even have a public library.

In any case, trying to find a parking spot at a quarter to nine on Sunday morning was like trying to get a stool at the bar at Johnston's Tavern on Fridays with a whole bunch of burly guys munching on poorly made tacos, downing tankards of beer, with their eyes glued to the TV – usually either a football or a hockey game is being played at the bar.

We're also a culturally advanced society.

It didn't help that people were crowded around the church's parking lot as if it was their fucking front yard. If it had been them behind the wheel, they would have been pounding on the horn, but since they weren't the poor soul who was driving, they just kept on talking to their neighbor like there wasn't a freaking vehicle heading straight for them. I rolled down my window and leaned my head out. "Can you guys move? I'm trying to get through."

The women turned and I mentally groaned. It was my grandma and a few of the ladies from her knitting club. You had to be kidding me.

Grandma placed her hands on her bony hips, just barely prominent through her flowered dress, and she stomped over to me. "Well, young lady," she said in a voice that could have woken the dead, "I see you finally decided to show some decency and show up to church!"

"Uh, no. Mom bribed me with brunch."

"Food. Is that all you young people ever think about?"

James pulled up in his car on her other side, just feet away from her. I mentally cussed. Just a few feet closer and she would have shut up for awhile.

"Actually," James informed her as he rolled his window down, "we also think about sex. Food and sex. Oh, and beer! The facts of life."

Grandma stared at him. "I never did like you."

"Don't worry, Janine. The feeling's mutual," he assured her, reaching out to pat her shoulder. She brushed his hand off.

"Ugh. Go away. Katherine, I'll see you inside." And with that she stormed off, grabbing her knitting club and marching inside like they owned the place.

I rolled my eyes. "All hail the wicked witch of the west."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and someone will throw water on her," James suggested.

"We can only hope. See you inside."

"Will do."

We pulled away from each other, headed in opposite directions. I managed to find an empty spot and parked, before making my way across the parking lot, up the church steps, and into the building.

The lobby was packed and it was with the grace of a clumsy bear that I managed to wind around everyone and grab a program. I hurried into the sanctuary and found my mom and brother. I could see Grandma sitting across the church with her knitting group, throwing dirty looks Kendall's way.

He was going to have a fucking ball with pissing her off.

Mom and Kendall both got to their feet, Mom reaching over to hug me first before gently shoving me into Kendall. I grinned as I wrapped my arms around him. "Hey, big brother. Long time no see."

He chuckled and scooped me up, somehow managing to swing me around the narrow pew aisles without knocking the elderly couple over in the row in front of us. "Hey, baby sister," he responded as he set me back down, grinning back. "Did you grow?"

"Hah, yeah, I wish. I'm in three inch heels."

"Grandma's going to have something to say about that," Kendall informed me.

I groaned. "Is she coming for brunch after church?"

Mom nodded. "She found the group e-mail I sent out to you guys on my phone when we were having lunch one day."

I stared at her in horror. "Why did you let her have your phone?"

"I didn't! I left my bag on the table when I went to use the restroom and she decided to snoop. You know how your grandmother gets."

"No, not at all, do tell me more."

Mom opened her mouth, but before she could get the words out there was a rumbling overhead.

"Was that thunder?" Kendall tilted his head skywards.

"James has just entered the building," I smirked.

Sure enough, a moment later he walked into the sanctuary, hands buried deep in his jeans pocket, hair windblown. He grinned, tossing a smartass wave at Grandma before making his way over to us.

The second he reached us I put my hands on my hips. "Leave. Now. We heard the thunder. I for one don't want to be in a building that gets struck by lightning."

"Tough," he responded. "If I'm going down, you're going down with me. Hey, Kendall." They did the whole best-bros fist bump thing that guys seem to think is the coolest freaking thing in the whole freaking world before he moved on to hug my mom. "Where's Mr. Knight?"

"Out of town on a business meeting," Mom told him. "He's in Kauai right now."

James pouted. "I wanna go to Kauai."

"We all want to go to Kauai," I said. "Let me know when you secure plane tickets and hotel reservations for us."

He sneered at me before glancing over at Grandma. "She looks pissed."

I smacked his chest. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to cuss in church?"

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to hit people in church?"

Mom turned to Kendall. "It's nice to see they haven't changed any."

"Isn't it? Feels just like the good ol' days," Kendall replied conversationally.

"They're going to be fun to have at brunch."

"Don't think about it, you'll end up giving yourself an ulcer," he advised.

"We're not that bad!" James and I cried together.

"Yes, you are," Mom replied.

"You two are the ones who almost had a fistfight during Camille and Logan's wedding rehearsal," Kendall added in.

I let out a huffy breath and placed my hands on my hips. "We did not almost have a fistfight. He was being an ass so I put him in his place and then I pushed him and he yanked me down with him."

"You left out the part about you being an uptight brat. And I thought we weren't supposed to cuss in church," James added in.

"I didn't cuss."

"You said _ass_."

"_Ass_ means donkey. It's perfectly appropriate."

"In that case, I can say _piss_, because that means – "

"Oh, look, here comes Pastor Wilbur!" Mom hollered, yanking me down beside her. James sank down into the seat beside me, and Kendall plopped down beside him, shaking his head.

Thunder sounded again, louder this time, like a lion's roar, and the entire room looked up towards the ceiling.

I turned my head to stare at James. "You made that happen by being in here. I know you did."

He opened his mouth, probably to cuss me out, but before he could get even a syllable out, Preston and some skinny girl with really fake red hair and a dress that shouldn't have been allowed on the streets came walking into the sanctuary.

I patted James' shoulder. "Sorry. My bad."

"Just remember, I'm no longer the only person on your S.H.I.T list. And don't look at me like that, I'm pretty sure you can spell cusswords in church."

"Whatever." I shook my head and crossed my arms, focusing my attention on Pastor Wilbur as he opened his mouth to begin the introduction.

It turned out that the topic of the sermon today was _forgiveness_. Such as, forgiving the dumbass sitting next to you for being an annoying prick.

James flashed me a smirk as if he knew what I was thinking. I must have been paying a lot of attention to the lecture because I managed to resist punching the cocky look off his face. Even though he totally deserved it.

By the time the service ended, rain was pounding against the roof like bombs hitting the ground, little explosions every time water made contact with metal.

I shivered slightly as I stood up, wrapping my arms around my body. Even though the church was heated, a damp chill had crept in through the walls, making the room feel a good five degrees colder than what it actually was.

James glanced sideways at me before shrugging out of his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders.

I gave him a questioning look. "I'm fine."

"So you're not shivering like you just took a plane to the Arctic?"

I scowled but pulled the leather more tightly around me. The lining was warm and smooth, and I caught the scent of something sweet but spicy, a bit like cinnamon.

Before any of us could move, the back of my neck tingled and I spun around on my heel, half expecting to find both Voldemort and Darth Vader standing at the end of the aisle.

Instead all I saw was Preston and Little Miss Bad Dye Job.

"Katie," Preston began smoothly, running his fingers over the front of his plaid coat. "How are you?"

"About the same since you saw me on Friday," I retorted. "You're blocking our way out."

"Well, forgive me for stopping by to see how you're doing."

"Preston? We work together. Now move."

James placed his hand on my shoulder and moved to stand beside me so that we were…well, head to shoulder. One of the perks of being tiny even in three inch heels. "She told you to move," James said warningly to Preston. "And I already think you're a shithead."

"We're in church!" the redhead squealed, nails digging into Preston's arm. Good. I hope he got cat scratch fever from the scratches. "You can't cuss!"

James cocked an eyebrow. "Really? Because I just did. And just for the record, I'm pretty sure that dress is even more taboo in church than cussing is. Now Preston, get your pretty little fake-redhead girlfriend out of Katie's and my way before I actually push you out of the way."

Preston and Miss Fake Dye Job quickly scurried back and James held his arm out to me. I looped mine through it and we sauntered out of the row and down the aisle into the lobby.

"You're welcome," James grumbled as I slipped my arm away from his.

"Thanks," I muttered. "That was actually kind of cool."

"No problem."

Mom and Kendall followed us, snatching up doughnuts and coffee on the way. I snatched a sprinkled-covered chocolate doughnut and took a bite. James grabbed a jelly one and bit into it, humming appreciatively.

"They always had great food after the sermons," James said through his bite of pastry.

I nodded in agreement as I munched on my own food. I had finished my muffin and coffee on my way to the church and I was starving. I couldn't wait to get back to my parents' place and have brunch, even if it did mean having to put up with my snooty grandmother. I just needed real food, something that wasn't made out of dough and frosting. Because that wasn't actually food – that was a bribe with calories.

Grandma walked out of the sanctuary at that moment and made her way over to us. She put her hands on her hips as she approached Mom. "I'm ready to leave."

"Eat a doughnut," Mom suggested.

"I don't want a doughnut. I want to leave."

"You should stay and enjoy the holiness that is this wonderful church," I told her.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to keep that smart mouth of yours under lock and key?" Grandma demanded.

"You. Multiple times."

"Hmmph." She eyed James with disgust. "Who shows up to church looking like they just stepped off the street?"

"Apparently I do," he responded. "Luckily, it's _my_ soul, so you don't need to worry about it."

Grandma turned back to me. "And _you_. Why do you have his jacket over your shoulders?"

"Didn't you hear? We're going steady. He's even giving me his class ring after brunch," I answered.

Grandma's face turned a very bright red as her eyes bugged out. She grabbed Mom's arm, informed me that I was an "insolent little brat" – because that was something new – and stormed out of there, Mom yelling over her shoulder,

"Be over at the house within an hour!"

I smiled happily. Pissing Grandma off was always so much fun. She was so easy to irritate.

Kendall slung his arm around my shoulders. "You did well, young grasshopper."

I grinned up at him. "I had a good teacher."

"I think the student has surpassed the master."

"Oh great. If that's the case, then we'll both be written out of her will."

James came up behind us, wrapping his arms around us and steering us out the lobby door. "For God's sake, Katie," he groaned desperately, "don't let that happen! Don't let your rightful inheritance slip through your grasp! Don't…_Don't_!"

I shot him a look. "Freak."

"Brat."

"Asshole."

"Bitch."

"Prick."

"Pain in the – "

"So, hockey season is about to start!" Kendall said very, very loudly. As in so loudly I was pretty sure he blew out my eardrum. "Everyone excited?"

James and I stared at him, before looking back at each other.

"And we need to figure out what our plan of attack is," James added to me.

I nodded. "I know. I mean, we can't just push Camille into Logan's lap and say, _here, kiss and make up. _That won't work."

"Clearly. Maybe we could get them to do something together. Alone."

"Alone is good. Alone works. Let's try to get them alone."

Kendall twisted his head back and forth between James and me. "What the hell do you two have planned? And why do you two have anything planned? Why the hell are you two scheming?!"

"We're working together to get Logan and Camille back together," James explained.

"You two are working together. You two are _working together_?!"

"Yes," I replied. "Stop freaking out, you're acting like we're going to bring about the apocalypse or something."

"You two working together will bring about the apocalypse."

"Whatever. Just as long as the apocalypse doesn't ruin my chocolate stash. Well, I'm off. I'll meet you guys back at the house." I wiggled out from under Kendall's and James' arms and pulled my keys out of my purse.

"Later," James called after me.

"Yeah, drive safely," Kendall added.

"Will do." I flashed them both a smile, flipped James the middle finger, and slid into my car.

Time to put Mission: _Get Logan and Camille Back Together_ into action.

Oh, and also deal with my grandmother. The usual world saving stuff.

* * *

_**So yeah, that was chapter five. Hopefully you guys liked it and it made you smile and maybe laugh a little bit. If it did, please review! If not...oops...**_


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